Ladies' Night
by angelaumbrello
Summary: Gofia, YoBling. Gil and Warrick are both shot at a crime scene by an old nemesis of Sofia’s, forcing both her and Catherine to work together in order to catch him.
1. Prolouge

**Summary**: Gofia, YoBling. Gil and Warrick are both shot at a crime scene by an old nemesis of Sofia's, forcing both her and Catherine to work together in order to catch him.

**Disclaimer:** CSI and any brand names used in this story do not belong to me and are being used for entertainment purposes only.

**A/N:** This is an a/u story that takes place in the beginning of season six. There is no Tina, Catherine and Warrick are together and expecting a baby, but they're not married. Sofia and Gil remained in constant contact while she was in Boulder City, they are now exclusively dating each other.

I'd like to thank both Tazzer and Sydne for all their help and suggestions. This story would never have gotten done without them.

Scene change

' thought '

_emphasis_

**LADIES' NIGHT**

_Prologue: Sofia POV:_

Strange how things can change in an instant. One minute you're standing at a crime scene talking, joking, teasing Warrick over his impending fatherhood and making plans for after shift with your reclusive former boss. The next, you are the crime scene. All it takes are several flashes from a muzzle of a gun and before you know it, order changes to chaos.

Bullets whiz by your ears as your body is nearly slammed through the ground and for a few seconds you're staring at the sky. Your arms are pinned to your side either by accident or purpose – you don't know. All you do know is you can't get your gun out to return fire, or free your phone to call for back up. Though you seriously doubt you could because the suffocating coppery smell of blood is filling the air and somehow instinctively you know that some of it's yours. Even before the searing pain can work its way through the adrenaline and register into your brain you know you've been hit.

All you can do is helplessly watch as dark colored truck speeds through the intersection and into the night as you force yourself to focus on remembering the shooter's license plate.

You also know instinctively without even looking down to the weight on your chest that Gil is laying on top of you . . . and he's not moving. You can't help but notice the perverted irony of your positions. How many lazy days have the two of you spent curled together with his head resting on your chest. The weight and feel of his body are permanently etched into your mind. Right now, all you can do is wait for a good Samaritan to call 911 as panic slowly creeps over you and darkness overtakes your senses.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** CSI and any brand names used in this story do not belong to me and are being used for entertainment purposes only. 

**A/N:** This is an a/u story that takes place in the beginning of season six. There is no Tina, Catherine and Warrick are together and expecting a baby, but they're not married. Sofia and Gil remained in constant contact while she was in Boulder City, they are now exclusively dating each other.

I'd like to thank both Tazzer and Sydne for all their help and suggestions. This story would never have gotten done without them.

Scene change

' thought '

_emphasis_

CHAPTER 1.

Fight night in Vegas is like an open invitation for every violent freak in North America to jump on a train, plane or automobile and make their way here. The next 36 hours will seem more like 36 days and it will feel as if anarchy rules the streets as visitors take advantage of the anonymity the city offers.

Shifts are spread thin and more likely then not, a lone CSI will be sent to a crime scene to process without the benefit of a partner. The only exception of course being if there are multiple bodies. Rookie CSIs like Greg get a trail by fire as they are sent to their crime scene without the benefit of a mentor. Double and triple shifts become so normal, that it becomes hard for anyone to remember any other kind of scheduling.

Despite all this, Catherine is still mildly surprised when dispatch calls her at one in the morning on her night off. She is after all six months pregnant and at forty-two, the health risks to both her and unborn baby hang over her like a guillotine. She has been told numerous times by her doctor, by Warrick, by Gil and by anyone working in the lab that has a mouth and a pulse, that she needs to relax and not overexert herself. Which just sucks as far as Catherine is concerned. She doesn't like being coddled or babied no matter how well meaning it is. She is about ready to claw someone's eyes out if she has to do another corner store B&E, or worse has to sit in front of a Mt. Everest sized pile of paperwork Gil has so _generously _left for her.

At least someone is profiting from her discomfort.

Her surprise though quickly dissipates when she hears what her case entails. One police, two CSIs all victims in a shooting while processing a crime scene. All three were brought to Desert Palm Hospital 's emergency room. That was bad enough, but when she learned their identities, she nearly fainted. Warrick and Gil, the two people she trusts more than anyone on this planet are both injured and the dispatcher knows nothing of the extent of their wounds. It takes all of Catherine's strength to not forsake the crime scene entirely, blow every light so she can be there for both her friends.

The scene she arrives at, is a large empty parking lot belonging to a liquor store. It has already been cleared and cordoned off by the familiar bright yellow tape warning everyone to stay away. Except this time it serves as a silent sentry to a double crime scene.

She slips gingerly from the driver's seat of her Denali to the cold concrete below. Pausing for a moment, she straightens her knit cap over strawberry blonde hair and gathers her composure while she gives a quick sweep of the area. Bright blue eyes skim across the newly laid black top with equally newly painted white parking lines. The neon light of A&B Liquor shines a spotlight on her and everything else within a forty yard radius.

A shiver, which Catherine doesn't bother to hide runs up and down her spine despite the heavy black winter coat she wears. She half expects a tumbleweed or two to blow through at any moment. It looks as if there is not another living soul within a mile despite the sound of frequent cars and trucks zooming near-by, most likely obscuring any possible clues left by tire tracks.

The morgue van, the police black and whites and the ambulance have all done their jobs and left. Gil's Denali and Sofia 's Dodge Charger remains parked to the far left just out of the reach of the neon lights. To her right just beyond the tape is a dark grey Taurus. Assuming that the sole occupant is the detective assigned to her case, she pulls out her ID badge and waves it signaling that she is from the lab.

While she waits for the detective, she goes to the back of her truck, opens it and pulls her kit to within arms range. There is no need for the added strain on her back that would be caused by carrying the whole kit around. Instead she opens the silver box and pulls out her large Maglite, tweezers, a digital camera and a handful of small brown evidence envelopes for any cartridge cases or bullet fragments she may find. Ducking under the tape, she turns on the flashlight and begins processing the grounds. She hardly notices the lanky young man get out his vehicle and purposely walk towards her. Dressed in a three piece black suit, with a broad black tie, he does not seem to be bothered one bit by the cool desert weather.

"Ms. Willows?"

Nearly jumping out of her skin, she quickly reaches for her gun as she turns toward the voice. Releasing the safety she gains a bit of her courage from the weight of her Glock. Giving the younger man a once over she fixes him with her best disapproving mother look. Catherine has a an excellent running knowledge of the detectives working for LVPD. She may not know everyone's name, but she sure as hell knows their faces. Whoever he is, he's new, stupid and by the looks of him too young to be a detective.

"Who the hell are you?" she challenges. Usually patient with rookies, the combination of pregnancy hormones and worry for her friends is making her fuse extremely short. On top of that, there is something disturbing about him and it's not just that she doesn't recognize him or the angry purple scar across his throat.

"My name is Detective Flynn. I recently transferred from Boulder City ," he responds with a pronounced mid-western accent ignoring her tone of voice.

Her face softens a fraction as she scrutinizes the young man from head to toe. Standing at 5'10" tall the raven haired man would be considered handsome in a conventional manner. But if you were to pass him on the street, you would most likely not give him a second glance. From his dark hair that is slicked back with a considerable amount of hair gel, to the pale almost translucent skin, this man would not stand out at out all. That is until you get to his eyes. His eyes resemble twin black holes that pull you in and refuse to let go. They're almost predatory, with a gleam that can only be seen on a lion just before it devours you.

Pulling herself away forcefully she resumes her search. "Well, Detective," she throws over her shoulder. "Are you going to stand there like a trout or are you going to fill me in the details on what happened? Why are you the only one here? Shouldn't you be canvassing the area? Why are there no cops securing the scene? News must have reached them that one their own has fallen."

"It is fight night," he replies evenly.

"True."

"Everyone is busy Ms. Willows. Besides that, Detective Curtis is new and she does have a reputation for being a bit of a . . . narc."

"A narc? What are we in high school?"

Detective Flynn merely shrugs his shoulders, a gesture that goes unseen by Catherine who still stands with her back to him. A pang of guilt shoots though her as she remembers her own shoddy treatment of the young blonde detective. Not once has she spared a thought to her well-being since she got the call from dispatch. She realizes with a bit of disgust that she is no better than some of the mouth breathers that call themselves cops.

' The kid was just trying to do her job and this is the thanks she gets' she thinks mildly angry at herself.

It wasn't that many years ago that she too faced sneers and disdain from both any CSI or cop who recognized her from her former profession. She still remembers the sting of how it felt to find **Whore **written across her locker, or have the other females walk away as soon as she entered a room. It wasn't fair back then and it sure as hell isn't fair right now.

While Catherine berates herself for her lack of compassion, she manages to photograph, tag and bag three separate cartridge cases. They all look to be from a large caliber rifle, beyond that she'll have to wait for Bobby in ballistics to test and report. What she does know is that these bullets can cause major damage and she just prays that these aren't the ones that were used on the three investigators.

Turning her attention back to the detective she raises an eyebrow in disdain at where his eyes are planted. "I know I have a nice tush, but you want to focus on the job?"

Unfazed he clears his throat and pulls out his mini notebook. Flipping through several pages he finally stops when he gets to his latest notes. "The original crime scene was believed to be gang related. No witnesses . . . "

"What a surprise," Catherine interjects.

Ignoring her comment he continues. "While our guys were processing the scene they became the victims of a drive-by and were gunned down by an unknown assailant."

"No witnesses?"

"If there are, they're too afraid to come forward."

"So, what makes you think this is a drive-by? There's no witnesses and until we have the tapes from both the stop light cameras and the liquor store there's nothing to back up your statement."

"Skid marks," he replies simply. "While I waited for you, I inspected the streets for any shell casings. The only thing I found was skid marks on Washington St. that looked as if someone took that corner extremely quick."

"So our perp goes down Monroe Ave. , they slow down once they get close to their target, then pop, pop, pop," she says reenacting the scene in her mind. Raising her hand in imitation of a gun she imagines the three of them had little to no time to react, never mind pull their guns out in self defense. "Then they hit the accelerator hard enough to leave skid marks and disappear down Washington Street ."

Abandoning her former task, she goes back to her Denali and pulls an "L" ruler from her kit. The detective then walks her over to where he saw the skid marks, which have been cordoned off to prevent them from being obliterated. Angry honks can be heard from irritated commuters as they circle around the two investigators. Anxious to get the measurements over with she quickly sets the ruler down on the ground and takes a digital photos to later compare with the data base at the lab. After repeating this action in several other spots, she takes out a small envelope and scrapes a soil sample into it. She then walks along the sidewalk of Monroe Ave. as well a couple of feet into the street, mindful of oncoming traffic as she looks for discarded casings. She is more than a little pissed that the detective did not block this side of the street as well. She is most definitely going to have words with Brass about training his men better. Placing the samples securely in her kit she grabs a few more small brown envelopes and goes back to her former task.

Going about her business she has effectively dismissed the detective to his own devices.

"You know what? I think I'll wait in my nice warm truck." he says in smug tone.

"Uh-huh," she replies absent minded.

Minutes slowly tick into an hour as Catherine methodically makes her way through the parking lot. Whoever decided on this black top was not making her job easier. For while it may look good it did not help when it came to finding blood splatter. The only blood she is able to see is any that has fallen on the white stripes of parking separators. Though on the other hand does she really need the added pressure of seeing her friends blood splattered across the cement?

Anxiety over Gil and Warrick gives her the energy and focus to finish processing the scene quickly. Years of tutelage under Grissom forces her to slow her actions to a slow keel. Who ever did this is going to pay, but not if she makes a boneheaded rookie mistake.

The moon which resembles an archer's bow hangs high in sky above Catherine's right shoulder. She remembers teasing her sister relentlessly as children, telling her that when the moon is in the this phase it means someone is going to die in their sleep. She thought her story quite humorous – in a cruel sort of way. That is until her grandfather died under that moon. She never told that story again, and over the years she's grown to hate that phase of the moon.

As Catherine goes about her business, Detective Flynn watches her movements with unnatural interest. Despite a bulging stomach and bulky winter coat the older woman still retains a beauty and grace that most women half her age would envy. Smiling to himself, he makes mental notes of every move she makes. The grace in which she bends to retrieve trace, the smoothness in which she labels her envelopes. Even the way she photographs all lend to exciting him over the coming hunt. He has already done extensive research on her background and even now a thick manila folder lies on the passenger seat. He knows everything, beginning with her birth place and ending with her latest case. Everything he has come up with suggests that she is a worthy prey. She is strong, intelligent and successful, but most of all she is carrying a child.

A child that could be his heir.

If he's real lucky and didn't get carried away earlier, he will get a chance to face an old nemesis. The only person to escape him in the fifteen years he has been hunting. There is no way in his mind that she will allow a puny thing like a bullet keep her from coming after him. Not after what went down in Boulder City . They both want revenge or as Sofia would call it justice. But in the end only one of them will walk away. The rain is what pulls him away from his musings. The sporadic tap, tap, tap on his window will quickly turn into a downfall serving as perfect cover for him to leave under. Catherine will be too busy trying to process the scene to notice that he is no longer standing guard over her. Putting the car into drive he slowly pulls out into traffic. His mission is accomplished he has made his presence known. The rest is up to Catherine.

Back in the parking lot Catherine is working herself into a near frenzy. She has less than ten minutes to gather and photograph the scene before it's completely washed away by the rain. Cursing repeatedly to herself, she blindly takes pictures for a couple of minutes before stowing the camera away in order to collect as much trace as she can within the eight minutes left.

She manages to find ten more cartridges of what looks to be the same caliber as well as a single bullet from a smaller caliber gun. Running to her Denali, she climbs in quickly and turns the engine on before setting the heat to high. She is chilled to the bone and angry as hell. The Taurus parked perpendicular to her is gone. The detective has abandoned her.

What's worse is she is having a difficult time believing that this is a drive-by. There are no casings on the sidewalk or on the street. The tire treads she found also lend to disproving Detective Flynn's theory of a drive-by. There are too many holes and she hasn't even gotten to the lab yet.

Pulling out into the street, she slowly makes her way to the lab. A part of her dreading having to face the rest of the lab, especially since she has no news either good or bad to offer them.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** CSI and any brand names used in this story do not belong to me and are being used for entertainment purposes only.

**A/N:** I'd like to thank both Tazzer and Sydne for all their help and suggestions. This story would never have gotten done without them.

Scene change

' thought '

_emphasis_

CHAPTER 2.

In and out, that's all Catherine had planned on staying. She told herself thirty minutes tops to drop off samples, casings, and answer to the best of her abilities any questions about the three's condition.

She should have known better.

She should have known as soon as word got out that she was in the building every CSI and lab rat would be coming out of the woodwork looking for any kind of news, good or bad involving their co-workers. It took her well over an hour to extract herself so she could make the trek to the hospital.

It is now quarter past 4:00 a.m. as she pulls into the hospital parking lot. Turning the engine off, she takes calming breathes before slipping out of the driver's seat. She looks around the parking lot for the detective's Taurus. Several seconds pass and her frown turns into a scowl as she realizes, he's not here. ' Where the hell is that bastard? ' she thinks.

Somehow she doubts that he even came within ten blocks of the hospital. Sighing she rubs a pale hand over her face in frustration. Standing in the parking lot, she feels as she's been punched in the stomach, all the air from her lungs rushes out and the only thing that is keeping her from collapsing to the ground, is sheer willpower. Her heart beats loudly in her chest and her mouth suddenly becomes very dry. Without a crime scene to distract her, or evidence to process, her mind is free to conjure worst case scenarios – all those casings, how many of those bullets hit Gil? Warrick? She does not like how this case is starting out. Squaring her shoulders, she prepares herself as best she can for the worst and makes her way to the hospital entrance. Stepping through the automated sliding doors, she heads down the familiar path to the nurses' station. Pulling out her badge for the second time that night, she introducers herself and states her business.

"They only sent one of you?" She asked. The nurse is a twenty-two-year-old African-American female, barely more than five feet and slightly less than 130 lbs. Her hair is pulled back in a tight bun making her round face seem rounder.

"What can I say? It's fight night," she offers with a shrug.

Giving Catherine a half smile, the nurse turns her back before finally picking up a single clip board and bringing back to the CSI. "Mr. Grissom and Mr. Brown are both in the OR."

"Still?" She asks. A knot that had previously gone ignored manifested itself full force as she feels her knees momentarily go weak.

"I'm afraid so," she replies softly.

"And Detective Curtis?"

Looking down at the clipboard she reads from it. "She's in room 207. A single gunshot to the forearm, and a second shot that grazed her temple. She _may _still be unconscious, but she'll make a full recovery. We've also recovered and kept the bullet for you."

Clipped to the board is a small plastic bag. Inside it is a large caliber round; identical to the one Catherine found at the crime scene.

There's still blood on it.

Handing it over to the older woman, the nurse gives her a look of sympathy. Catherine receives it with a nod of thanks and gives it a once over. After making sure the bag is sealed and labeled correctly, she makes her way to Sofia 's room. With shaking hands and burning eyes she walks the corridor to the detective's room. From her estimation, both men have been in the OR for nearly four hours. She doesn't want to think about what she would do if one or both of them were to die.

' _Damn it Warrick_ ' she thinks in anguish. ' _You can't leave me. You can't leave me!_ '

Pausing at the detective's door, she grips the handle tight enough to turn her knuckles white. Conscious or not, she is not going allow herself to be weak in front of Sofia. Gathering all her strength, she wills herself to calm down, as she blinks away her tears.

Stepping into the room she expects to see the unconscious form of the young woman, instead she immediately locks eyes with a disheveled, but conscious detective. Catherine is surprised at how human Sofia looks. The ice princess facade has melted to reveal a hurt, scared young woman. Sofia 's make-up has been washed away leaving her looking at least five years younger. Her youth and inexperience seem to glow like a neon sign. On her left temple is square cotton gauze being held in place with tape. Even so, a small spot of blood is still visible. Her left arm is also bandaged and being held to her side by a sling.

"Catherine," she says by way of greeting.

" Sofia, they said you were still unconscious."

Sofia bites her bottom lip, trying her best to not show any weakness in front of the older woman before fixing Catherine with an even look. But no matter how hard she tries, Sofia cannot hide the anguish in her eyes, or control the tremors in her body. "I've been up for nearly 45 minutes. I haven't been able to find out anything. _I don't I don't know what the hell is going on! Gil could be dead for all I know. They won't tell me a damn thing, I'm not "family" enough, they say! _ I've been dating Gil for over six months, you would think that would count for _something_. I can't lose him, I just can't." Tears that the detective doesn't bother wiping away, gather in the corners of her eyes and fall in silent streams.

"They're both in OR, the nurse just told me," Catherine replies in a soft voice.

"_Oh god_," she says with a cracking voice. For a brief second Catherine can see a second wave of tears well in her eyes as grips her blanket tightly. But the moment passes quickly as she blinks them away. Taking and releasing several breaths, she levels her gaze at Catherine. "Who's the detective working the case?" she asks in a professional, but shakey voice. Catherine understands Sofia's need to concentrate on anything but Gil's unknown condition. "Shouldn't he be with you?"

Releasing an unladylike snort she makes her way to the chair beside Sofia 's bed and sits down. She then wiggles out of her coat and takes off her knit cap. "His name is Detective Flynn and I don't have a clue where he is," she replies heatedly.

"Never heard of him."

"He said he's a recent transfer from Boulder City ."

Furrowing her eyebrows she thinks for a few seconds before shaking her head slowly "I don't remember a Detective Flynn when I was there," she finally says.

Raising an eyebrow at the blonde she gives Sofia a questioning look. "Do you have a photographic memory or something?"

She turns her head slightly to the side in embarrassment and gives a single nod. But the moment of playfulness passes quickly. For when Sofia turns back to face Catherine, her expression is all business but her eyes look as if she has seen a ghost. "Photographic memory or not, I will never forget what I saw in Boulder City ," she says with a shudder.

"And your positive there's no Detective Flynn?"

"Positive."

"_Damn! What the hell is going on? _Why would someone do something like this?" Catherine asks angrily.

Sofia has no answer to Catherine's question. She allows a few seconds for the older woman to calm down before asking her own questions. After a few minutes of silence, she finally asks, "What did this detective look like?"

Sighing Catherine leans back into her seat trying to get comfortable before she answers. "He was plain looking, height was about 5' 10'. Black hair slicked back. Pale almost see through skin. His accent was Midwestern. The only thing that really stuck out were his eyes, they were almost black. The bastard kept starring at me like I was a piece of meat."

"Did he have a scar?" Sofia asked not liking where Catherine is going with her description.

Shooting her a look, she replies anyway. "He had scar across his throat. Nasty thing."

Sofia 's face blanches when she hears that.

"What is it?" Catherine asks. "Do you know him?"

Sofia slowly nods her head in affirmation. "Does the name Flynn mean anything to you? Do you know anyone from the Midwest?"

"Yeah," Catherine answers slowly. "On both counts. But what does this have to with the detective?"

"Everything," the blonde replies in a low voice. "It means he's been studying you. It means he most likely has a file on you as thick as a phone book. It means that neither you, your family nor friends are safe."

"What . . . what are you talking about?" Catherine asks in a matching low voice. Her hand goes unconsciously to her stomach.

"That detective is no detective, his name is Evan Tyler. He was dubbed the 'Hunter' by the media. And while you and the others were busy saving Nick, I was with the task force charged with bringing that monster down."

"I remember seeing something on the TV while I was in the waiting room at the hospital. Wasn't he responsible for killing 45 women? I thought you caught him?"

"Those forty-five, are the women we know about. And yes we did catch him, but apparently he escaped."

"And he wants revenge."

"And an heir," Sofia finishes in a near whisper.

Catherine raises herself from the chair, walks to the other side of the room and leans her forehead against the window. Tremors run through her body and she grips the windowsill tightly as she fights to keep control. The night air is still cool as it provides a welcomed relief to heat rising within her. The sun's rosy fingers are just beginning the slow climb over the horizon, but she pays little attention to natural beauty before her.

"Catherine?"

Silence. Either the CSI does not hear her or she is ignoring Sofia. The young Detective curses the two IVs preventing her from going over to the distraught older woman. For good measure she adds a couple of curses for herself for upsetting her in the first place. But she has to know. This killer is not like any other she has ever faced in her career. "Catherine, I know we're not friends but I promise you, _no one_ is going to touch that baby."

Several minutes pass by and Sofia begins to worry that Catherine may not be able to carry on. Her worry is alleviated when the older woman returns to her seat. There is a determination in her walk that speaks of a woman who is not going to be stopped.

"Tell me about your crime scene, Catherine."

"I received the call from dispatch at about one a.m.. I quickly got ready and was at the liquor store no later than one thirty. There was no one else there except for Detective Flynn. I then began to process the scene. I found close to a dozen casings and a single spent round. I also found skid marks on Washington St ."

"Skid marks?"

"Yeah."

"No. Our shooter didn't take the corner he went through the intersection and straight down Monroe Ave. He didn't turn at all."

Rubbing her eyes in frustration Catherine asks. "What did his vehicle look like? Did you get a license plate number?"

"Dark grey, maybe black. I'm not sure. I do know it was a Taurus. The plate was one of the newer state ones and I made sure I got the numbers, 167-BF2." Pausing for a moment Sofia studies Catherine's expression. Something seems to be bothering her because the older woman looks as if she could chew through steel. "Are you okay?" Sofia asks.

"Not really. It seems our, your shooter and the detective are one in the same," Catherine replies in a tight voice.

"Shit."

"My sentiments exactly," Catherine replies. "Tell me about your crime scene."

"I received the call at about 11:30. The owner of the liquor store was leaving for the night when he came across four DBs. Gil was trying to get some paper work done before the next wave came in and Warrick had just put to bed a B&E, so I grabbed them both. We arrived at the scene a little after midnight – traffic was a real bitch. When we got there the first thing we noticed were how neatly the bodies were lined up. The tallest was on the right and the shortest on the left. The youngest couldn't have been more than fifteen. The second thing we noticed was that the bodies were ice cold. Like they were stored in as freezer for a while. Decomposition had been retarded too badly for David to give an accurate TOD. We also found about ten casings which Gil and Warrick bagged and tagged."

"Where are they?" Catherine interrupted.

"The casings? In their kits I assume."

"I didn't see their kits at the scene."

"I suppose the paramedics wouldn't have taken them?"

"Nuh-uh," Catherine replies with a shake of her head. "Maybe one of the patrolmen took them but I'm not holding my breath. Between the time it took to clear you guys from the scene and the time it took for me to get there, our killer had time enough to turn around and grab their kits."

"No, that's not the way he operates. He is an attention whore. He wants people to know what he's done and how. Taking Gil and Warrick's kits does nothing to help him. Besides why not grab all the cartridge casings while at the scene?"

"I was going to say not enough time but why hang around the scene? And why give me false information?"

"For the first," Sofia explains. "He is, simply put, introducing himself to you. The second is a test; are you smart enough bear his child?"

Gritting her teeth in anger, Catherine is reluctant to ask the next question. "And Gil and Warrick? The news said all his victims are female."

"Gil and Warrick are expendable, like ants. It's the women he's interested in. They are his prey. You and I are his prey." Taking a deep breath she continues. This is going to be a hard sell. She and Catherine do not have enough history for her to be making requests like this. "I know this is the kind of case that you would rally the whole graveyard shift for . . . "

"Of course I am," Catherine interjects.

"But you can't, not this time."

"Why not?"

"Because like I said the men are expendable. He will not hesitate to kill them. As for Sara," Sofia says with a shudder. "Let's just say the guys have it easy."

"You know how difficult that's going to be?" Catherine replies heatedly. "I barely made it out of the lab the first time and I wasn't even dealing with graveyard. As soon as they get back they're going to hear what happened and they're going to demand to help."

"I know. I wouldn't ask this lightly. And I know there's going to be some hard feelings, but this is for their own safety."

"Fine," Catherine says with a sigh. She's not looking forward to having that conversation but if it keeps her team safe, she'll bite the bullet and do it. "So I guess it's just the two of us."

"Yeah."

Getting up from her chair Catherine walks to the door.

"Where are you going?" Sofia asks.

Turning back to the detective, Catherine cocks an eye in amusement. "To get you clothes. Unless you want to give half of Vegas a nice view of your butt, though I highly doubt Grissom would appreciate it." Catherine replies with dry smile.

Looking down at her clothes she returns the older woman's smile with one of her own. "I'd appreciate that."

"I have a friend who works here. I'll see what I can do about clothes and information."

Before Sofia can say anything more Catherine leaves the room. The young detective is alone giving her time to think, but worst of all to remember.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** CSI and any brand names used in this story do not belong to me and are being used for entertainment purposes only. 

**A/N:** I'd like to thank both Tazzer and Sydne for all their help and suggestions. This story would never have gotten done without them.

Scene change

' thought '

_emphasis_

**CHAPTER 3.**

The early morning sun glares down on Sofia and Catherine like the eye of God. The air between the women is thick with unvoiced worry and despair when they walk through the doors of the lab. The corridors resemble a ghost town, instead of one of the busiest labs in the country. Rooms that would normally be abuzz with activity and sound are now empty and quiet. Stepping into the break room, the reason becomes obvious to the two women. The small room is packed beyond capacity. Every and any surface that can be used as a seat is currently being occupied by a CSI, a detective or a lab technician.

As far as anyone is concerned this is the only crime that exists in Las Vegas.

Stopping in front of the head table, Catherine and Sofia can feel the eyes of the whole lab on them. The remaining graveyard shift sits awaiting Catherine to hand out orders. Emotions range from the tight-lipped stoicism of Brass, to the brave red-eyed front of Nick and Greg, to Sara's barely suppressed grief/rage.

Sighing inwardly, Catherine steps forward and Sofia steps back allowing the CSI to take lead per their agreement. The doctors had wanted to keep Sofia for a 24-hour observation. The only way to get out early was to have someone promise to keep an eye on her. Catherine had agreed to this, but only if the detective gave her the lead in the case.

"I know by now everyone has heard the news about Grissom and Warrick, and I know that everyone wants to help in whatever capacity they can to catch the bastard who shot our friends. Unfortunately, I'm afraid that for your safety, the primary investigative team will consist of, Detective Curtis, myself and any necessary lab technicians."

It takes a few seconds for the news to sink in. "I don't mean to buck your authority" Nick interjects. "But if were any one of us Grissom would pull everyone off their case to investigate."

"I realize that," Catherine says with a sigh. "And believe me if the circumstances were different I'd be doing the exact same thing. But I have it on good authority, that anyone I assign to this case is a walking dead man. Our killer will not hesitate in shooting you or any other CSI. As far as he is concerned, this is between himself, Sofia and I."

"Cath, I'm certain I speak for everyone when I say we appreciate your wanting to protect us." Nick says. "But ultimately isn't it our decision whether to take these death threats seriously or not?"

"No, it's not," Catherine replies in an even tone. "As supervisor until Grissom returns it's my responsibility to ensure your safety to the best of my abilities."

Sara replies with an unladylike snort and mumbles something under her breath as she fixes the detective with an icy glare. It's very certain that even though the brunette's words are intelligible the person she is directing them at isn't.

"Would you remind repeating that Sara?" Sofia asks in a tight voice.

"Sara, Sofia, this is neither the time nor place for this," Catherine interjects. Both women ignore the strawberry-blonde as they continue starring daggers into each other.

"I said, too bad Sofia over here doesn't subscribe to the same belief as you. Maybe our guys would still be in one piece."

"Are you blaming me?"

"Hey, all I'm saying is that it's your job to protect the CSIs at the scene. It's your job to make sure they get back to the lab in one piece and yet here you are safe and sound while two of our team – our family lies in the hospital."

"That's enough Sara. One more outburst like that and I send you home on suspension. Got it?"

Sara gives Catherine a disbelieving look before she directs her anger at the older CSI. "How can you even think of taking her side? It's her fault that Warrick's in the hospital."

"I'm not taking her side. I'm not taking anyone's side. I'm just trying to conduct a meeting, now if you cannot act like an adult then maybe you should step outside and cool off." Pausing she turns her attention to the rest of the team before she continues. "As I was trying to say before, these threats are not empty or made to scare you off. This killer means business and will not hesitate to kill you."

"What about the lab rats?" Brass questions. "Do I need to assign a security detail to them?"

"No," Sofia supplies. "This is by no means a put down, but our killer considers the lab technicians too low on the food chain to waste a bullet on."

"But if any one of you wants to opt out, then say so." Catherine adds on. "No one will think any less of you."

"This is bullshit!" Sara interjects. "The lab rats get a say but we don't?"

"Our killer is a narcissistic hunter." Sofia says in a slow measured voice. "He prides himself in keeping the hunt equal. Anything or anyone that upsets that balance, he will not hesitate to get rid of."

"And since he considers the lab rats as beneath him they're safe . . . right?" Nick adds.

"That's right," Catherine replies. "I can't in good conscious send any of you out there to your deaths. I know it sucks and I don't blame you one bit for being pissed at me. But I do not do this lightly."

"So that's it," Sara practically growls at the two women. "You say jump, we say how high? No explanation. No nothing except you and Sofia's word?"

"Enough Sara!" Brass barks.

Momentarily mollified the brunette sits back in her seat with a sullen look on her face. Catherine almost feels sorry for the younger woman. She can easily imagine had the roles been reversed feeling the same way. Dismissing the rest of the group she keeps the remaining graveyard and Brass seated at the table. Sofia takes a cue and closes the door so they will not be disturbed or overheard. What Catherine is about to say, neither woman wants to risk having it broadcast throughout the building.

"First of all," Catherine begins. "If I catch anyone going civilian on this case, I will not hesitate to not only suspend you without pay, but I will make damn sure you get nothing but convenience store B&Es for the rest of your career." Pausing for a second, she takes a breath before continuing. "Now I know that you are going to want to visit Gil and Warrick. They are both in still in surgery, once out they'll be placed in ICU. I've arranged for everyone in this room to be placed on their visitor lists. The thing is, only one or two visitors are allowed in at a time. So you'll have to work a schedule out amongst yourself."

"How bad is it Cath'?" Nick asks in a quiet voice.

Slumping slightly, Catherine braces herself against the table and closes her eyes for several long seconds. "It's bad," she finally answers. "It's still touch and go. The doctors aren't sure if they'll make it. They say the next 24 hours will determine whether they live or not. They both received three gunshot wounds to the torso. There was massive bleeding. Enough to require transfusions"

"Is there anything we can do? Do you want me to go back to the lab?" Greg asks finally making his presence known.

"Visit, talk to them, let them know you're there and pray as hard as you can. As for going back to the lab – no, your one of us now."

Several minutes pass in heavy silence before Brass decides to take the initiative and is first to get up and head for the door. Along the way he tugs Sara's arm encouraging her to come with him. Reluctantly the rest of the team gets up and follows the captain's lead.

Waiting for the last CSI to vacate the room, Catherine pulls out a chair and practically falls onto it. A hint of frustration colors her face and posture as she stifles a yawn, this is no time for her to be tired, Warrick and Gil are depending on her.

The pain emanating from her arm and head is nothing compared to the guilt that is gnawing at her stomach. ' Some cop I am, ' Sofia thinks miserably. ' Catherine must hate me right now, and I don't blame her one bit. 'What would her mother think if she saw her? She would never have allowed any CSI under her watch suffer any harm, never mind her lover. A thousand shoulda, woulda, coulda's circle her mind like hungry sharks trying to devour every last drop of her self-confidence. Walking up to the CSI, Sofia places a hand on the sitting figure's shoulder. "She's right," she practically whispers.

Turning her head to the right Catherine gives the young detective a questioning look.

"Sara. What she said is true," Sofia clarifies through gritted teeth. "I should be the one on the operating table, not them. If I had just done my job . . . "

"Don't."

"But . . . "

"But nothing. You're not psychic, there was no way that you could predict this, no one thinks it's your fault. Sara is angry and looking for a convenient target – and you're it."

After a few seconds of silence Sofia decides to change the subject. "So why didn't you tell them everything?"

"Tell them what? That both Warrick and Gil have pneumothorax? Or how about the killer we're after is responsible for the deaths of 45 women? Did you really want to go into the particulars of how he literally hunts and kills women as if they are some kind of an animal? Because if we did tell them, they would never let us handle the case alone. Even if it did mean signing their own death certificate. And I refuse to let them throw away their lives." Hoisting herself from the table, Catherine turns to her blonde companion. "We need to get to ballistics but first I want to check Gil's Denali out."

"Why?"

"Because it seems like the most logical place for Tyler to leave their cases and I get a sneaking suspicion that both kits are safe and sound on the front seat, just waiting to be processed."

"Look, why don't I go check that out, then I'll meet you at ballistics. I have to make a few phone calls as well and I can catch up with whatever I miss easily enough."

Nodding her head in agreement, the two women separate.

It takes less than ten minutes for Sofia to finish her errands and join Catherine in the ballistics lab carrying Gil's silver case in her good hand. Behind her carrying Warrick's is a young male lab technician. Catherine was right. The cases were perched neatly on the front seat of Gil's Denali safe and sound. There is no doubt in the detective's mind that any evidence collected at the scene will be undisturbed in their little brown envelopes.

Entering the lab she and her assistant place the cases on an empty table with a small thud, gaining both Catherine's and Bobby's attention. Completely ignored, the young man quietly takes his leave. Catherine's face is even paler than usual as she raises her head from the comparison microscope and greets the detective with a nod of her head.

"How bad is it?" Sofia asks in a soft voice.

Shaking her head Catherine steps aside and allows Bobby to give his report. "The rounds that you recovered are all from the same gun. It looks like they're from a 40mm Smith and Wesson. But I'll need the actual gun to be absolutely certain. As for the casings they are from a 450 Rugby. These kind of bullets are usually used on African safaris or to hunt other dangerous game. We're talking Kodiak bears and rhinos."

"Well, he does consider women to be the most dangerous prey," Sofia supplies.

"That's not all, your killer must have retrieved the casings because they are nice and shiny like they've been freshly polished."

"He probably left them at the scene as a sort of calling card," Catherine speculates.

"That would make sense, he wants us to find him and will do nothing to hinder us." Sofia agrees with a nod of her head.

"I guess the hunt is no good if we don't come face to face with him."

"Exactly," Sofia responds. She then pauses for a moment. "So what's next on the agenda?"

"I haven't heard anything from trace. So the next step is going to the prison. We need to find out how he escaped. If he had any accomplices . . . anything that will lead us to him before he gets to us."

"It seems we're on the same page, I spoke to the warden and he's expecting us."

"Okay, then let's go." Waving good-bye to Bobby, the two women make their way quickly out of the lab and into Sofia 's Charger.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4.**

Ely Maximum State Prison, was built in 1989 and is located six½ hours from Las Vegas. It's the only maximum security prison in the state. Here death row inmates reside until their appeals run out and they are shipped to Carson City for execution. Evan Tyler was to be one of these dead men walking, but somehow he escaped and now it's up to the two women to bring him down before he starts hunting _them_.

It'll be personal for Sofia, and she knows it. She alone escaped his hunting grounds, brought him down and wounded his pride all in one fell swoop. She also knows that between the two of them only one of them is going to be walking away and she has every intention that she'll be the one, not him. As an officer of the law the possibility of having to defend herself by taking another's life hangs over her head – out of sight, but not necessarily out of mind.

This is different though, an officer may have this thought tickle at the back of their mind once in a while, but with her there is no doubt of the out come.

It's not just her life on the line. Catherine and her unborn baby's lives are also at stake. Despite what Sofia has told the older woman, it is doubtful that she can truly understand the magnitude of the horror that Evan Tyler is able to visit upon his victim.

"Sofia?"

Startling her momentarily the Detective quickly recovers her composure. "Yes?" she replies.

"Are you okay? You looked like you were a million miles away."

"I'm fine," she replies a little too quickly.

Catherine purses her lips and watches the other woman for a few seconds. She knows that the young detective is lying. Her whole demeanor throughout the case has been one of anxiety. Whatever Sofia went through with Tyler, it was big, big enough to throw the detective off and to cause that carefully crafted mask she wears to slip.

The problem is they are hardly friends or even what you would call acquaintances and Catherine is not sure how to fix that. It is obvious that she needs to do something, at some point to mend fences between them and she needs to do it soon. The young detective looks as if she can use a friend and Catherine gets the feeling that they are going to need to trust each other on this case. They can't do that if they can barely have a civilized conversation with each other.

"Are you sure?" She asks, not at all convinced. Catherine can see how her bottom quivers every once in a while and way her jaw is painfully clenched. The detective's eyes are red-rimmed and if she looks just right, the CSI could see the glimmer of tears. There is no way that she is okay, not after what she went through. Because she knows that it's taking all her self-control to not have a major break-down right there and then herself. It's taking all her will-power to keep her body from shaking and even now, she can feel the burn of unshed tears in the corners of her eyes. _'Stopit, stopit, stopit, I can't lose control. I can't let Warrick down. _'

"Yeah . . . yeah . . . "Sofia responds half-heartedly, refusing to look the other woman in the eye. She knows that if she did, she would break down and confess every fear and insecurity she has, that she is terrified that Gil is not going to make it and that this whole mess is her fault. So she keeps her eyes on the road as her mind torments her. A part of her though, would like for nothing more than to take Catherine up on her offer. After all her reputation as mother/big sister to the graveyard shift is close to legend. Unfortunately she can't, for much like Catherine she too has her pride and will not allow anyone to see any kind of weakness in her.

Catherine sighs in resignation as she settles into the driver's seat for the long ride to the prison. There's no use in arguing with the young woman. She'll just have to try again later.

Six and half hours later find the two women going through a battery of security procedures before they are finally brought to the warden's office. Sitting behind his desk, Warden Fairchild gives off an air of someone who has not only served in the military, but still lives his life guided by their principles. At age sixty, he still cuts an imposing figure as he sits ramrod straight behind his neat and orderly desk. Intense steel grey eyes and a matching grey buzz cut completes the picture of someone who doesn't suffer fools easily.

After introductions are made and cursory offers of drinks are declined the three settle into business. "Approximately two weeks ago," the warden begins,"**A **riot broke out amongst the prison's main population. Several of my men were injured in that melee, including a single death."

Sliding a manila folder across the desk to the women, he waits for each of them to study it. Catherine looks at it first, her mouth widening slightly in shock before she passes it onto Sofia. It only takes a few seconds for the detective's eyebrows to rise in surprise.

"Quite a likeness," the warden says after the women have a chance to compose themselves. "Apparently, Tyler realized this as well and took advantage of it. When we finally calmed the inmates, we did a bed check and found his body in Tyler's bunk wearing the prisoner's clothes. Our first assumption was that he was killed in retaliation and the riot was used as cover. It was only later in the morgue when someone recognized a tattoo that we began to suspect something amiss. We took fingerprints and ran them through our system. But by the time we realized our mistake . . . "

"He was long gone," Catherine finishes.

"That's right. He literally walked out the front door."

Closing the file, Sofia gives the warden her full attention. Her cool blue eyes are deep in thought as she processes what has just been said. "I didn't think that death row inmates bunk with the general population," she finally asks.

"They don't," the warden replies tersely. "But Tyler has a crackpot for a lawyer. An idealistic young woman who's fishing for every and any excuse to have his ruling overturned. Until then he gets a cell in the main building."

"That includes a bunkmate?" Catherine asks while shooting Sofia a quick glance. The only indication that anything is bothering her is a slight tightening of the mouth.

"Yes, we'll have him brought to a holding cell for you."

"And his lawyer?"

"Abigail Winters. Says she works for the Coalition to Release the Unjustly Accused - the CRUA for short." The disdain he has for the woman comes through loud and clear in his voice.

"You don't believe in her cause?" Catherine asks.

"It's not that. It's the public, they see convictions being overturned they start losing faith in the justice system. They don't realize that what we do is constantly evolving – improving. _You _know what I'm talking Ms. Willows. What's hidden from you today is uncovered tomorrow."

Slightly surprised at the warden's articulation, she fixes him with a half smile. "I blame TV myself."

"All those crime dramas," he says with a snort. Getting back to business he hits a button on his somewhat antique looking intercom system and orders the person on the other end to bring the prisoner to a holding cell. He then gets up and makes his way to the door, signaling to the women that they should follow him.

"Warden Fairchild, how soon do you think we can get copies ofvisitors' logs and any letters he may have received?" Catherine asks after a few seconds of silence.

"I have men taking care of that right as we speak. They'll be ready before you leave."

Catherine remains silent for the rest of the walk. She had expected the warden to be somewhat defensive, but she's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The holding cell is 10' by 10' and lined on all sides with thick metal bars. The center is dominated by a table bolted to the floor. Here lawyers and their clients meet to discuss their stratagem. Right now David Roland, convicted of three counts of assault and battery with a deadly weapon sits awaiting Catherine and Sofia's arrival.

Roland, a thin gangly man of roughly 28 years shifts in his seat nervously. Dark brown eyes under thick bushy brows shift back and forth between the women and the warden, not sure what to expect. The two women sit in front of the prisoner and the warden stands behind Catherine leaning against the bars. There is no way that he is going to allow a pregnant woman to stay in the same room as Roland – women's libs are damned.

"I understand that you used to be bunkmates with Evan Tyler?" Catherine begins.

"That's right."

"We're looking for any information on him, did he talk to you?" Catherine asks, taking the lead.

"What do I get out of it?"

Sofia all but growls at the prisoner's audacity causing Catherine to glance at her the other woman in surprise before turning her attention back to Roland.

"Tyler is responsible for the death of 45 females and those are the ones we know about. He is also wanted for the shooting of two CSIs," Sofia states momentarily taking over the interview.

"Do you really think I care about a couple of Geeks?" he responded with a derisive snort.

"Do you have a daughter? A sister?" Sofia asks in a low voice.

Casting a weary look to the detective, Roland answers, "I got a little sister."

Narrowing her eyes, she leans over the table. "Do you know what he does to little girls like your sister? He kidnaps them, he drugs them and he puts them in a small cold dark room – a soundproof room with no food and no water. And he leaves you in there until all sense of time disappears. And then . . . "

"Sofia!"

"And then he hunts them down, like an animal."

"Sofia!"

"Is that what you want for your little sister? Because I can guarantee that not only does he know about her, but she has a big target right on her forehead."

_"Sofia, sit!"_ Catherine ordered, surprised at the other woman's emotional outburst.

Several seconds pass before the detective sits down her jaw is painfully clenched in anger, she stares daggers at the other man.

"Is it true?" he asks Catherine, fear has replaced his earlier indifference. "You can't let him get her, she's the only person who doesn't think I'm a total screw up."

"Then talk and I'll make sure she is protected." Catherine promised.

Slumping in his chair Roland shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't talk to me much. I wasn't worthy enough. So there's not much to say, he was a weird piece of shit."

"How so?" Catherine asks.

"He had all these rules on how women should be treated. If one of the guys referred to women as bitches or hos, Tyler'd practically tear them apart. He thought they should be worshiped," he says with a snort. "No wonder he got so many letters from the ladies."

"Did he talk about any lady in particular?" Catherine asks with a disbelieving shake of her head.

"Oh yeah, some chick detective. It drove me crazy."

"What did he say?"

"He would go on for hours about how he couldn't wait for them to go on another hunt."

Catherine glances over to Sofia and her heart constricts in sympathy. One look at her and the pieces of the puzzle slide into place easily.A nauseous feeling comes over her as she makes the sickening realization that Gil and Warrick were nothing but collateral damage. The only reason the men were still alive was to torment them; to put them off their game because they would be too worried about their men. It's time to end this, they have gotten all they can out of the prisoner and there's no need to put Sofia or herself through more anxiety. Motioning to the warden that they are done, Catherine waits until the prisoner is taken away before speaking again.

"If you could get a couple of your men to help with any boxes we'll be on our way." Somehow she managed to get the words out calmly. Inside though, she was a mess of emotions.

The warden nods his head in agreement before carrying out her request.

After thanking the warden for his help and cooperation, the two women climb into the Chargerto start the long trip back to the lab. Before she leaves though,Catherine gives her card to the warden and tells him to call her if anything comes up – no matter how insignificant it may seem.

By the time they exit the prison grounds, it's past one p.m.. The afternoon heat is already making its presence known as Catherine decides to forgo her coat and put in the backseat.

It takes little coaxing to get the detective's car key from the stunned detective, who is easily ushered into the passenger side. There is no way in hell that Catherine is going to let her drive, not in her condition. Sofia is paler than usual as she stiffly sits in the passenger's seat. White knuckles clutch the door handle in a death grip as she tries, and yet fails, to regulate her outward reaction. Catherine wishes she could offer something else besides lame platitudesShe drives several miles before pulling over to the side, allowing both women to calm down. Noneed to jump down Sofia's throat when it's obvious the woman is suffering already.

"I'm sorry Catherine. I don't know what came over me."

"Don't be," Catherine responds before pausing for a beat. "Did he . . . do that to you? Lock you up?"

"Yeah, he did." A haunted look settles over her face as she stares out the window. Her body may be in the present but her mind is in the past, reliving what happened.

"If you want to talk Sofia, I've been told I'm a good listener."

The young detective's silence is deafening and is really starting to worry Catherine. "We need to talk," she says before Sofia can deflect her concern.

Sighing in resignation the young blonde turns her head to the older woman in anticipation of what's next.

Leaning over the arm rest, Catherine makes sure she has the blonde's attention. "Sofia, you're not alone,"she says in a soft low voice. "I know we got off on the wrong foot. And I know we're not friends, but I don't hate you."

"You sure act like it sometimes."

"I know. It was stupid and childish, but I blamed you for the split and well . . . you worked for Ecklie."

"And now . . . ?"

"And now," Catherine responds. "I want to make it up. There's no reason why we can't be friends instead of characters from Dynasty." She pauses for a moment before continuing. "I have far too many enemies and far too few friends, and I'm pretty certain it's the same with you. Women like us we don't trust easily, but once we do . . . "

Sofia nods her head at the older women's assessment. She then turns her head and stares down the long lonely road. To trust or not to trust – should she allow Catherine in, trust her with what she hasn't even told Gil or does she continue holding it in, risking the possibly of losing out on a valuable friendship.

"I still have nightmares about what he did to me," she finally admits.

"Does Gil know?"

"No. I haven't told him anything. He doesn't even know I came face to face with him. You're the only one I've told," Sofia admits. The message behind her statement is clear to Catherine. The she is trusting her with something painful and private. Purposely allowing the CSI a peek behind her mask.

Catherine offers this in return. "About three years ago, my ex-husband got himself killed and almost took my daughter with him. For months after that I had horrible nightmares. It was like I was stuck in a loop, forced to live that moment over and over again. I would go days with only a couple of hours of sleep. If it wasn't for Warrick, I don't think I'd ever have gotten through those times. My point is you need to tell Gil. He may not be a people person, but he's a good man and he'll do his best by you."

"I just don't like to think about it."

"And neither did I. But you don't get over something by locking it in. It's just going to eat you from the inside," Catherine says in a sincere voice. Reaching toward the younger woman, she forces Sofia to face her. "I'll help too, just promise me you'll talk to Gil. Okay?"

Sofia nods in agreement, feeling as if a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. _She is not alone _and that means the world to her.

After a few more seconds pass Catherine pulls back onto the highway and once again starts the long drive back to the lab.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5.**

Abigail Winters' place of residence is located on Lincoln Rd. in Hawthorne. A rich dark brown craftsman style bungalow, her home was most likely built sometime around WW II. Yet looking at how well maintained it is one would be hard pressed to think that this house is almost 60 years old. A freshly painted white picket fence encircles a small yard, but its grass unlike the house looks to have given up the ghost. Yellow and dying it looks as if her yard has not seen a drop of water for several days.

Parking in front of the house both women exit the vehicle. Standing side by side, they look around for any telltale signs of life. There isn't any. All the lights are out and the driveway is empty as well. The hair on the back of Sofia's neck rises.

' _This can't be good.''_ Sofia thinks.

Catherine had called Abigail's office and was informed that she had taken time off and was not expected back until Tuesday. The young lawyer did not say where she was going, according to her boss was not out of the norm Abigail often went out of state to help the wrongly accused but to Sofia this was the first red flag that something was amiss. Why would she, a seemingly ambitious young woman, takes on another client when she has a powder keg for a case nestled right in her hand. The repercussions if she were to somehow get Tyler out on some technicality would be enormous, both for the judicial system and law enforcement.

A look of concern flutters across Sofia's face for a brief second before she regains her composure. Reaching for her gun, she undoes the clasp that secures it in her holster. Glancing over to Catherine, the detective can see that the other woman has mimicked her movements. Wordlessly Sofia takes the lead as the two women walk cautiously up the walkway and onto the front porch. Stopping two feet away, they both notice the door is slightly ajar. Another red flag that not all is well. Pulling her Glock from its holster, Sofia turns to Catherine and mouths 'stay here' before turning and making her way through the front door. Behind her Catherine pulls her own gun out as she waits patiently for the young detective to complete the sweep of the house.

Five minutes pass torturously slow for Catherine and still Sofia has yet to come back out of the house. An eerie silence has befallen and Catherine she's more than tempted to go in and make sure that Sofia is all right. She is worried about the younger woman, not only is she dealing with the stress of having Gil in the hospital, but whatever that sick bastard did to the blonde still haunts her.

Another minute passes before Sofia appears at the front door. Tight lipped the detective holds her gun in a death grip. "The house is clear," is all she says before turning around and heading back further into the house. Fully expecting Catherine to follow her Sofia does not stop until she gets into the kitchen.

Putting her gun back into holster Catherine quickly catches up with the detective. "You okay?" she asks.

Giving Catherine a weak smile of reassurance, Sofia points to the table with her chin she re-holsters her gun and waits for the other woman's reaction.

There sitting center stage on a small mahogany table is a large padded envelope stuffed with some unknown contents. Written in large plain letters are names of - Catherine and Sofia.

"_Shit_," Catherine mutters. Out loud she says. "He's been trailing us hasn't he?"

Sofia nods at her companion. "We're his prey. And like any good hunter he is going to patiently and methodically track our movements until he finds the perfect opportunity to strike." Pausing for a moment she allows her eyes to sweep up and down the street, imagining Tyler somewhere hidden just out of view. "You do realize Abigail is most likely dead, don't you?"

"What makes you think that? He's only been out of prison for two weeks. That's hardly enough time to set up a new place of operation, never mind take a victim."

"True, but I wouldn't be surprised if he had a hunting ground in every county in Nevada. When I was in Boulder City we were able to track down three separate hunting grounds from minute traces of dirt and pollen left on his victim. And he would need to practice before he comes after us. I'm afraid Abigail would be a convenient target."

"How much practice does he need?"

"I don't know. But I would call your family and have them go somewhere safe and tell them not to go near anyone they themselves do not know personally. No matter what the person knows about them tell them not to trust them. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Good. In the meanwhile I brought my kit as well as yours we can process the house, though I doubt we'll find much. He never takes his victims from anywhere near their homes. He says it gives them an unfair advantage."

"Your kit?" Catherine asks. "I thought you gave up being a CSI?"

"Well technically I am a detective, but my CSI certification doesn't end for another two years. And you never know when an extra pair of hands will be needed," Sofia replies with a shrug.

"Yeah, well I sure as hell can use all the help I can right about now." Catherine agrees.

Outside Catherine goes through her coat pockets to retrieve her camera and Maglite while Sofia opens the back and grabs both hers and Catherine's kit.

"Do you want to process inside the house or do want to do the grounds?" Catherine asks.

"I'll take the grounds."

Bringing Catherine's kit into the house she places it in the living room before going back outside to start her own processing. Sighing to her self Sofia glanced at her watch - 6:30pm. There is no way that they'll be able to process the house and the grounds and make the trip back from Hawthorne to Vegas in time for visiting hours. At this rate they will be lucky to be back before the end of graveyard shift. Which in itself is not a bad thing. She just doesn't have the patience right now to deal with both the crew's wanting to be helpful and in particular Sara's demanding attitude.

Dusk is that time between day and night when a blanket of grey falls on everything giving a washed out look to the land is quickly approaching. Soon coats and hats will be need to be donned and instead of air-conditioning, heating will need to be blasted through out the Charger.

Pulling out her flashlight, Sofia begins a slow meticulous search of the drive-way for anything that will give her concrete evidence as to where his new hunting grounds are. Sparing one last glance to the house, she hopes that Catherine will have some have some luck. They need to catch Tyler before he gets warmed up and comes after them in earnest.

More time passes bringing with it the darkness of night. Bundled in her winter coat **and** her arm held awkwardly in the sling Sofia is fully dependent on her flashlight to guide her through the yard. Having been over every inch of the driveway and the yard she has nothing to show for all her efforts. Getting up from her crouching position she stretched her long lean legs. Barely managing to stifle a yawn she goes over to the car and puts her kit away. Grabbing Catherine's jacket she once again takes a long slow look up and down the street. The hairs on her rise as the feeling of being watched comes over her. She slams the door of the Charger shut and makes her way hurriedly back to the house. The need to make sure that Catherine is alright starts to fill her with an unexplainable urgency.

"Catherine, Catherine!" Sofia calls out from the porch right before she bursts through the door.

"I'm right here. Calm down," she replies. Meeting the younger woman in the entryway Catherine places evidence bags – one containing a toothbrush and the second containing the envelope from the kitchen table into her case and shuts it tight.

Releasing a breathe she didn't realize she was holding, Sofia ignores the odd look that Catherine gives her. Instead she asks. "Did you find anything?"

"Not a damn thing," Catherine replied exhausted. "I've been over every inch of this place and there was nothing to suggest any kind of crime took place. So, either this guy is extremely OCD or like you said, this is not the primary crime scene. I took her toothbrush though, for DNA comparison."

"So, you think it's odd that she would up and leave on another case as well?"

"Yeah, and we never did get an ID on the bodies from the liquor store. I called the lab while coming here and they said that the killer cut the tips of their fingers off. No fingerprints. We're going to have to wait for dental records and you know what a pain that can be. I figure DNA is a hell of a lot quicker. Did you get anything?"

"No," Sofia answered as she trades Catherine's coat for her case.

"So what's with the panic?"

"I'm just a little on edge," she confessed feeling slightly foolish.

"Well let's get out of here. The sooner we get back to the labthe sooner we can get results. Are you going to be okay to drive or do you want to take a nap, and I'll drive?"

Rubbing her eyes tiredly Sofia hands over the keys to Catherine even though she doubts she'll get any sleep no matter how worn out she feels. Leading the older woman out the door she pauses and watches as Catherine shuts the front door. The sound of an engine catches the women's attention. Looking toward the sound, they both stop cold. A dark grey Taurus is parked with its engine running in front of Sofia's Charger.

The driver's window is down and Tyler's face can just be made out with the help of the street lights.

Pulling out her gun Sofia makes sure that she is standing between Catherine and Tyler. Using both her arms to aim she ignores the pulsating pain that rips through her arm, and points her gun right between his eyes. She all but dares him to try something right then and there. Only Catherine can see the grimace of pain and slight tremor passes through her body.

Tyler stares down the barrel of Sofia's gun in defiance, he too is daring her to try something. His smirk slowly turns to a full grin that conveys nothing but amusement. Even with the gun less than 20 feet away, he is unafraid.

"Is that anyway to treat an old friend?" Tyler asks. His mid-western accent from earlier is gone and in it's place is a rich tenor voice lacking any obvious accent.

"What do you want?" Catherine called from behind Sofia.

"I'm just checking on my girls. Making sure your doing well. Maybe I'll get a few more souvenirs while I'm here."

"Is Abigail one of you're souvenirs?" Sofia asked.

"I don't know does she fit my criteria? Besides, if I told you it would ruin the game and I'm not even warmed up yet."

"This isn't a game," Sofia retorts.

"Yes it is my dear detective and that baby your friend is carrying is the ultimate souvenir. My crowning achievement," he crowed in delight.

Upon hearing that Catherine steps out of Sofia's shadow and raising her own gun she too points it right between his eyes.

"I swear to God that if you come _anywhere _near my baby, my family, or my friends I will hunt you down and put so many bullets through your body that there won't be enough of you to ID."

"I look forward to you trying Catherine. It'll be fun, don't you think?"

Rolling up his window he hits the gas petal and performed a U-turn in the middle of the street before heading off to parts unknown.

When the truck is out of sight Sofia nearly doubles over with pain. Putting her gun away quickly she holds her arm to her chest. Pain contorts her face into an ugly mask. A lone tear hangs at the corner of her eye.

Unbeknown that Sofia is in painthe older woman makes a quick beeline to where Tyler's truck was parked. Her gun is back in its holster and a small envelope and flashlight is out in its place. Seconds pass by before she turns to face the younger woman. "I found ..._Shit_!" she says as she rushes to the slumped over Sofia. "I'm so sorry I didn't realize..."

"It's okay, I'll be fine," Sofia replies even though it's obvious that she's lying.

Catherine escorts her to their vehicle and opens the passenger side door. Helping Sofia in getting in and as comfortable as possible Sofia sheds her coat so that the two of them make sure the stitches weren't broken. Luckily for her they hadn't, no blood was showing through the layers of white bandages.

"Do you want some more Advil?"

Nodding her head tiredly the detective leans back in her seat and for once allows the older woman to mother her. Handing over 3 gel caps she watches slightly put off as the young woman swallows them dry.

"Are you going to be okay? Do you want to go to the doctor?"

"No, let's just get out here. I just need to wait for the medicine to kick in and I'll be fine, honest," Sofia replies. "What did you find?"

"Oh, uh, some kind of gravel. It's small but it should be just enough to run tests on. And there's a good chance that where ever this came from is where his new hunting grounds are."

Nodding her head in agreement, Catherine gets into the Charger and starts the long trek back to the lab.


	7. Chapter 6

' thoughts '

_emphasis_

scene change

**Chapter 6.**

The trip back from Hawthorne is quiet and tense. Each woman is wrapped up in her own thoughts, anxieties and fears.

Catherine grips the steering wheel tight enough to turn her knuckles white, while keeping one eye on the road ahead and one on the rearview window for a possible tail. Her jaw clenches in a futile effort to keep her professionalism.

Sofia stares blankly out the passenger side window. Her mind is a million miles away as she tries desperately to keep a stoic expression painted on her face. The pain in her arm is now only a dull throb that is easily ignored, but the memories are not so easily forgotten. Hearing Tyler talk about the souvenirs he's collected on his hunts reminds her, not only of how close _she _came to becoming a trophy, but also of the friends she lost. In the beginning there were six members of the task force by the time that Tyler was caught, there were three left.

All 45 women had been missing their eyes. Tyler carved them out, dried them, and kept them in a jar by his bed. They had reminded her of the marbles her sister used to play with as a child. She kept them in mason jars and would spend countless hours staring at the kaleidoscope of colors as the sun's's rays shone through them. In his night stand had been a little black book with each of the woman's initials and day he killed them.

One hundred and fifteen entries in all.

She can still see the bodies lining the Boulder City precinct. They were on gunnies borrowed from the local hospital awaiting autopsy and identification. Their mummified corpses smelled musty and remind her of her grandmother's attic. They stared at her with empty sockets and wore smiles that resemble wolves, their teeth bared in a grotesque parody of a smile.

Yet as terrifying as the memory of what happened in the past was, how close she came to losing Gil was even more terrifing. There are no words in her vocabulary that can describe the pain if he were to die and she doesn't want to know the words either.

The dam breaks about half way back to the lab. One minute the young blonde is sitting quietly, and the next tears are silently falling down her cheeks. Moments later, quiet sobs alert Catherine to Sofia's emotional state forcing her to pull the vehicle over to the side of the road.

One look at her companion and Catherine's maternal instincts kick in with a vengeance. Reaching in her coat pocket she pulls out a package of facial tissue and hands it to Sofia. She then gathers Sofia in her arms and allows her to cry on her shoulder. Rubbing her back Catherine offers the blonde the same words of comfort she would her own daughter, doing her best to reassure both Sofia and herself that everything is going to be okay. That Gil and Warrick are going to pull through.

Letting Catherine to mother her, Sofia allows all her frustrations and fears to be vented.

Catherine rests her head on the younger woman's head but keeps an eye on the front window for Tyler. She doesn't like how vulnerable they are parked at the side of the road. The alert CSI doesn't want that psycho sneaking up on them again.

Several minutes pass with the only sound of Sofia's subsiding sobs filling the Charger.

Pulling away from the older woman, Sofia uses the tissue to wipe away her remaining tears. Embarrassed at her behavior she can barely look Catherine in the eye.

"Sorry, I . . . "

"Don't apologize. We're both under a great deal of stress."

"Really? You seem awfully calm."

Sighing deeply, Catherine stares out the front window for several seconds before answering.

"I learned, at a very young age that you don't let people see you weak, scared or worst of all crying, because they will use it against you to make you powerless. They will strip you bare both mentally and physically and then torture you . . . Marriage just drove that point home."

"Catherine . . . "

"_Don't _pity me. I survived and I'm fine."

"Then why are you crying?"

"I'm not, just have something in my eye," Catherine says, but a lone tear running down red rimmed eyes proves her a liar.

Sofia hands over the rest of the tissue to Catherine and watches as the older woman dabs at the corner of her eye. "Is that why you won't marry Warrick?" Sofia asks after several seconds of quiet. "We were teasing him at the scene, asking when he was going to make an honest woman out of you. He got really quiet and said you refused."

"Eddie burnt me really badly, and I still got scars. Not to mention every guy before and after him has left their own scarring on me. As much as I love Warrick there's a part of me that is terrified. Even the thought that I may lose him is still not enough to negate that fear."

"_But he loves you."_

"I know, but sometimes . . . it's not enough," she says before pulling back onto the road.

Sofia doesn't respond – she doesn't know how to respond, so she stares silently out the window as the miles rush by.

After several minutes, Catherine turns slightly to Sofia and keeping her voice even says, "If you want we can visit them in the hospital."

"What are you talking about? Visiting hours isn't for several hours."

"You remember my friend? I'm certain if I ask, she'll let us in for a few minutes."

Standing by the nurse's station Tessa awaits the two women. At 5' 6" she stood in stark contrast to the two thin, pale investigators quickly approaching her. Her mother's Greek heritage is visible through olive skin which is framed by dark auburn hair pulled back in a tight long ponytail that reaches just above her waist. An athletic body is easily discernable, even though she is wearing standard baby blue scrubs.

Tessa envelopes Catherine tightly in a bear hug, which the CSI returns gratefully. Deep sympathy for her cherished friend is visible through unshed tears that cling stubbornly to her eyelashes. Quiet words of encouragement are whispered into the redhead's ear as the nurse allows Catherine to cling to her momentarily. What started out as a casual friendship born of their respective jobs has over the years blossomed into a sisterhood.

Tessa pulls away and gives Catherine the once over. "You look like shit, Cath."

"Thanks," Catherine relies blankly. It was true though, she looks like she hadn't had a decent night sleep in days. Worrying over Warrick has eaten away at her, leaving a shell of a woman before her friend. Sadness weighs heavily in her eyes making them look dark like sapphires. What little make-up she has on does little to hide the signs of fatigue in her face.

"Seriously, you don't look good. Isn't there someone else you can pass this case on to?"

"I'm afraid not," Catherine replies with a sigh, not wanting to get into the particulars of the case. Raising her eyes to meet her friend's, Catherine gives her a look that Tessa over the years has learnt meant; she will not be dissuaded from her course of action.

Tessa turns her head to Sofia acknowledging her for the first time, and says with affection, "Keep an eye on her, will ya? She's a stubborn old broad who'll work herself into the ground."

"I will," Sofia responds feeling both slightly left out and impatient to see Gil.

"Good," she replies before turning back to her friend. "You each have 10 minutes, Warrick's in 108 and Gil is in 109. When the time is up, I'll tap on the door and I expect you leave without protest, understand? If my boss finds out, I did this . . . "

"He won't," Catherine promises. "We appreciate this Tessa. We really do."

"Yeah well, you can pay me back by getting the bastard who did this to them."

Tessa spares them one last look, debating for a second whether to warm them about what to expect when they enter each patient's rooms. Instead she returns to her duties leaving the two women to their own devices. Words alone will do nothing to soften the shock.

Casting a last glance to each other, the two investigators silently wish the other luck before they step into their respective lover's room.

After Catherine steps into the small sterile room she doesn't go directly to Warrick's bedside.

To see him chained to a hospital bed surrounded by machines and IV bags is almost more than she can handle. Just the thought alone is enough to twist her insides into knots.

Instead she walks around the small, sterile, white room for a full minute, looking at anything and everything except her lover. Thin pale fingers glides over get well bouquets whose scent can barely override the natural antiseptic smell of the hospital. Everyone from the lab it seems has been there at some point. From the lowest of techies to highest of ranking CSIs, each one has left some small memento of their visit.

Finally she turns to the figure in the bed; a strangled cry erupts from her and unbidden tears form and fall quickly from her eyes. She barely makes it to the chair before her knees give out. Breathing becomes difficult as she starts to hyperventilate, trying desperately to remain calm – but failing miserably. This is the first time she has laid eyes on Warrick since he was admitted to the hospital; they refused to let her, even if they had she knows cowardice would have kept her from seeing him. A part of her fears the worst and that same part refuses to have her last vision of Warrick be of him lying helplessly in a hospital bed. She wants to always have the memory of him, active, smiling and full of life.

She knows he's in bad shape, knows he's at death's door from what the doctor's told her earlier, three gunshot wounds all to internal organs he said. She did her best to mentally prepare herself for the worst on the drive here.

There is nothing though, that could prepare for the sight that greets her eyes.

Warrick's skin was pale, almost translucent giving him a washed out look. The patches on his chest, which are hidden under the blanket are hooked up to an ECG machine to monitor his heart. On the right side of his chest, just under his sixth rib, a tube is connected to an underwater drainage, allowing the removal of the air surrounding his lung so it can slowly re-expand. IV bags containing nutrients, pain medication and blood are held on a metal pole hanging from the ceiling, and an oxygen mask covers both his mouth and nose.

Her conversation with Sofia floats back to her and every reason, every excuse she told the detective and herself for not marrying him seem petty and stupid. She has allowed her fear to cripple her. What if that same fear costs her the one man who has always loved her unconditionally, the one man who has never negatively judged her or her past, and has never mocked her when she was vulnerable?

"_Damn you! Damn you! Damn you!"_ she whispered loudly, pounding her fist against the chair's in rhythm to her words. Though if you asked her whether she was damning her own stupidity or Warrick for getting shot, even she couldn't tell.

Tears, she no longer bothers to hide, run down her cheeks in a steady rivulet. Clutching his hand in hers she carefully places it over her abdomen, the baby obliges by kicking her in the same spot.

"You feel that Rick?" she asks gritting her teeth to stop her crying. She can't though, and her voice comes out in gasps, unable to form complete sentences. "That's your . . . _our _baby . . . and he or she is going to need to you . . . Lindsey needs you . . . Did you know she thinks of you . . . as a second father? She does . . . she told me so . . . I need you too . . . So, you can't . . . die . . . you . . . can't . . . leave . . . us . . . alone."

Letting go of his hand, she rests her head against his chest as close as she can to his beating heart. She strains to hear the rhythmic thump, thump, thump, but it's near impossible as her sobs fill the whole room.

Gil always thought being in a coma would be like being in a deep sleep – unaware of the passage of time or anyone's presence. He feels as if he is floating through a thick dark ether. He can hear, though, and feel. He can hear the machines that keep track of his heart and respiratory system. He can hear the doctors and nurses as they came and went about their business earlier in the day. They discussed his and Warrick's prognoses in hushed tones, debating whether to call a priest for last rites. He also heard the voices of his fellow CSIs as they came and gave their regards.

Right now, all he senses is Sofia's aura all around him, like a gentle spring breeze. He can feel a slight weight on his shoulder and feel a familiar hand holding his tightly. He can tell she's crying and he wishes that he had the strength to reach out and wipe her tears away.

"Gil," she says softly when she's finally able to get her voice to work. "I'm right here, baby. I can't stay long though, I wish I could. I wish I could be the first person you see when you wake up."

' Me too, angel, ' he thinks.

"I can't lose you, Gil. You hear me? Not when I just found you."

' You won't lose me, I promise. '

Her voice is too choked to continue talking. Large tears fall slowly down her face. She quickly wipes them away, not wanting to spend the remainder of her ten minutes bawling like a widow.

Hearing his heart beat strong and true as she rests her head on his chest, gives her confidence to continue. So long as Gil is alive, hope is alive. Not only the hope that he will survive and recover, but that she will defeat Tyler. Slowly the tears dry and she synchronizes her breathing with his. For the last few minutes she closes her eyes and allows their joined breaths to soothe her troubled mind.

She would have remained there for the whole day ignoring everyone and everything except Gil had the gentle rapping on the door not disturbed her. Lifting her head reluctantly, she slowly raises herself from her chair. Sofia lingers a brief second by her lover's ear to deliver one last message.

"I love you Bugman," she whispers.

' I love you too, angel. '

Leaving the room, she nearly walks into Tessa.

"Well?" the nurse asks expectantly.

"Nothing, no change," Sofia responds with a sad sigh. "Tell me the truth, what are his chances of pulling through?"

"His injuries aren't as bad as Warrick's, only two of the bullets hit internal organs the third one hit muscle. He lost a lot of blood, but . . . I honestly don't see why he or Warrick for that matter won't make it. It's just a matter of time and patience. They're healthy and most importantly they have people who love them dearly. Believe it or not that goes a long way."

Sofia merely nods her head at the nurse's words.

"Look Sofia, could you do me a favor and get Catherine for me? My boss wants me to run some errands for him and I need to get going."

"No problem. And thanks . . . for everything."

"Your welcome, just remember to take care of her and yourself."

Tessa takes her leave from Sofia and the detective quickly makes her way to Warrick's room, which she enters without knocking. She didn't know what to expect. Catherine had been playing her emotions close to her chest. Except for a couple of kinks in her armor Catherine has managed to remain emotionally distant.

Whatever Sofia had been expecting it most definitely not what she is witnessing. The sound of Catherine's sobs hits her like a brick between the eyes. She's surprised she couldn't hear Catherine in the hallway. The redhead's shoulders shake as she finally lets lose with all her repressed sadness, despair and anger.

Without conscious thought, Sofia hurries to her partner's side, pulls her from her chair and into a tight embrace. Catherine for her part returns the embrace with desperation, squeezing the younger woman as tightly as her stomach would allow.

"Catherine? Catherine, it's going to be all right. I promise," she says in quiet voice. "But we gotta get out of here, okay?"

Pulling away, it takes Catherine a full minute and a whole lot of determination to calm herself. Her eyes and nose are both colored a bright red, a dead give away to any passerby that she had been crying and crying hard. Her lips still quiver with the aftereffects of her breakdown and her cheeks are still wet from un-wiped tears. Wordlessly she reaches into her pocket and pulls the car keys out and gives them to Sofia. There is no way that she can drive in her condition, and if Sofia's head wound were to provide added complications, it would have manifested itself by now.

Sofia takes the keys and gently leads Catherine out into the hallway, keeping her body between her and anyone who would make a fuss at the CSI's appearance, but also to protect Catherine's dignity.

After settling Catherine into the passenger side, Sofia gets into the driver seat. Removing her arm from her sling, she starts the engine for the return trip to the lab. A new determination takes root in each woman after seeing their lover surrounded by machines, their lives coming so perilously close to ending. There is no way that Tyler is going to get away with this – no way in hell.

It's just a matter of time before they catch up with him and make him pay.


	8. Chapter 7

' thought '

_emphasis_

CHAPTER 7.

Dawn's rose colored fingers slowly make their way across the morning sky, bathing Las Vegas in light and the promise of a new day. While Catherine and Sofia were gone, Archie was hard at work getting the information needed for the women to continue the investigation. Between the videotape from the traffic light in front of the liquor store and Sofia's memory, he is able to find the name and address of the Taurus's owner by running the license plate through the DMV data base.

Unfortunately, even with all the technological wizardry at his fingertips he is unable to ascertain a clear photo of the truck's occupants.

After she receives the information, Sofia thanks the young technician. Taking the file with the owner's information, along with the ballistic report she received earlier, she makes her way to break room where Catherine awaits, but not without first making a detour.

Slipping into the detective's locker room she heads straight for her locker. After putting in her combination she opens the metal lock. Reaching for the top shelf, she blindly feels around for a couple of seconds before she finds what she is looking for.

Pulling down a small metal box with a small metal lock, she takes a key from her keychain and releases the contents to the light of day. Nestled inside an ankle holster is a small J-frame Smith and Wesson revolver. It was a present from her mother the day she made detective; Sofia didn't have the heart to tell her that she already had one from her days as a street-cop.

It only has five rounds, but it would be perfect for Catherine to protect herself with, should the two of them be separated. Tyler wouldn't be expecting her to carry a concealed weapon. All his precious notes and spying would not give him any indication that _any _CSI, never mind Catherine, has _ever _carried an ankle gun.

Taking the gun out of its metal prison, she makes sure it is clean and loaded. She returns the box to her locker and after shutting the door, she locks it. Holding the gun and file in her good hand, she quickly makes her way to the break room, where she has forced Catherine to eat before she drops from exhaustion.

Sofia enters to see the redhead staring blankly at a half-eaten sandwich. She can see the exhaustion and knows it mirrors her own exactly. If it weren't for the baby, Catherine would skip eating entirely in order to remain fully focused on the case. In an effort to get Catherine to eat, Sofia had to threaten to tie the redhead down. As it is, her food tastes like ashes, and it'll be a miracle if she'll be able to keep it down.

Taking a seat across from the older woman, she pushes the holstered gun across the table to Catherine. Fully expecting she would accept the gift without question, Sofia begins leafing through the thin file.

Catherine stares at the gun for a second before giving Sofia a pointed look. "As much as I appreciate the gesture, I can't use it."

"Why not? You've used a gun in the line of duty before." Sofia asks as she lifts her head to meet the other woman's gaze. She does not bother to hide her confusion at the redhead's refusal.

"I know," she says quietly. A shiver runs through her spine when she thinks of how close she almost came to losing Gil. If she hadn't gone to the laundry room first, Syd Goggle would most definitely have bludgeoned him to death. "I'm just not sure how much good _that _particular gun will do me."

"A gun is a gun."

"Not when it's holstered to your ankle, and not when you can barely bend down to tie your shoes without turning into a contortionist."

"Oh. . . Shit, I thought. . ."

"I know. And I really do appreciate it."

Sofia stares at the gun for a bit before coming to decision.

"Are you a righty or a lefty?" she asks Catherine.

Now its Catherine's turn to be confused as she replies, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm going to put the gun on for you, but I need to know righty or lefty?"

"I'm right handed," she replies slowly with narrowed eyes. "But you don't need to do it, I'm not going to get much use from something I can't get to quickly or stealthily. And I doubt that Tyler will wait until I struggle to get it out."

"I know, just... humor me – _please_? I'd feel better knowing that you were wearing it, even if you never do have to use it."

Shifting in her seat, Catherine turns her body to the side and raises her right leg on to the chair next to her. Taking that as consent, Sofia grabs the gun from the table, brings it to her side and fastens it securely to her ankle under her pant leg. After which, Sofia returns to her side of the table and picks up the file she was looking at.

Catherine swings her leg back on the ground, hoping it won't take to long for her to get use to the added weight. "What do you have there?" she asks, while readjusting herself so she can look directly at the blonde sitting across from her. Craning her head she tries to sneak a peak at the open file.

"The owner of the Taurus," Sofia replies. "Her name is Cara Stowe. She has a few priors. Mostly petty stuff, including possession of an unlicensed gun."

"Really? That gun wouldn't happen to be a 40-millimeter Smith and Wesson?"

"No, it' a CZ Champion 75. Which, according to Bobby, also uses 40-millimeter ammo."

A tight smile slowly forms across Catherine's mouth as she takes another bite of her sandwich.

"And the video?"

"Not much," Sofia reports. "The driver managed to hide their face with the brim of a baseball cap. The shots however, were from the back seat."

"He has a partner? Is this normal for him?"

"No, he's a loner. Everyone we spoke with said he was quiet and kept to himself, but that he had strange rules when it came to women."

"Pretty much what Roland said. We'll need to get a search warrant for her house, I doubt if she is going to be very forthcoming with any help."

Sofia nods her head in agreement. "Especially if he's threatened to kill members of her family like he did with Roland. Her back would be up against the wall," she says as she watches Catherine clean up her mess. The two women then leave the lab and start for Cara's home.

A short time later finds both investigators on the brick porch of a two-family home on Raymond Street in Enterprise. Sofia carries Catherine's case in her right hand, while Catherine knocks on the door. Placing it by the door, she spends the time waiting for Cara to answer scanning the street for anything or anyone suspicious.

Looking over the brick banister to the driveway below, Catherine doesn't see the dark grey Taurus. For a brief moment she entertains the thought the apartment is empty and that Tyler and his accomplice are somewhere out on the streets plotting their next step. Unconsciously she puts a hand over her gun. She wants to be prepared for an unexpected confrontation.

A plump young woman in her mid-twenties answers after making them wait nearly a minute. Brushing unruly brunette curls from her face, Cara Stowe musters up every bit of attitude and stares with unbidden irritation at the two women who dare disturb her sleep. Even if Tyler hadn't spent untold hours drilling her on the two women in pursuit of him, she would be able to tell that they are from police.

"My name is . . . "

"I know who you are. You're CSI Willows and you're Detective Curtis."

"Uh . . . right. We have a search warrant for your apartment, so I suggest you stand aside and wait with the detective while I carry it out."

"And if I don't?" Crossing her arms over her chest the young woman tries to give off an air of defiance, but fails. Instead of sounding tough she sounds nervous, like she expects Tyler to jump from around a corner any second now. Her eyes dart everywhere but at the two women standing before her.

"This isn't a request," Catherine replies tersely. "There isn't a yes or no answer."

"And if I don't comply? Ya gonna go call your friends in? You might as well paint big bulls-eyes on them. Though, I'm certain Tyler would enjoy the target practice." Drawing her lips back she tries to smile with an air of cockiness, but instead looks like a nervous dog.

"I don't need them," Sofia responds in a low voice. She then turns to her companion, "Catherine would you mind taking a little walk down the street?"

"Why?"

"I'm going to ram my car through her door and I don't want you and the baby getting hurt."

"Hey, you can't do that!"

Sofia steps into Cara's personal space, icy blue eyes stare into fearful brown eyes. Even Catherine is momentarily taken back by the detective's intensity, but offers no assistance to the dark-haired woman. She wants to get into the apartment as much as Sofia and if she has to turn her back to make sure the bastard that shot Warrick and Gil gets what's coming, so be it.

"If you don't let us in," Sofia says in a low deadly voice. "You will find out exactly what I _can _do."

Turning her head Cara repeats her earlier complaint to Catherine, hoping for a more sympathetic ear.

She receives none. Instead Catherine tosses the keys to Sofia and slowly starts walking toward the stairs.

"Call me when you finish and make sure you don't bust my kit up, okay?"

Panic takes over Cara's face as she realizes Sofia is not offering her an idle threat and Catherine is not going to step in to play good cop. Her face drains of color and her eyes dart back forth between the two women.

"I can't let you in. He'll kill me."

"Is he in the house?" Sofia asks while taking her gun out of her holster.

"No, he left an hour ago. But you have to leave, if he sees me talking to you . . . "

"Look, we can protect you."

"No, you can't, detective. And even if you could. You couldn't protect my whole family."

"How did you get involved with him anyway?" Catherine asks from behind Sofia. The older woman's eyes never leave the street. It's almost as if she too is expecting him to pop out from behind a bush.

"I thought it would be cool, writing to an inmate as famous as Tyler. I didn't think he'd answer never mind show up at my door with a gun. He said he'd hunt and kill every female in my family if I didn't comply . . . and I believe him."

"Do you know where his hunting grounds are?" Sofia asks.

"Why can't you leave me alone? I don't know anything!"

The frustration and fear in Cara's voice are evident as she tries to slam the door in the women's face. Sofia is quicker though and manages to jam the door with her foot.

"No one is leaving," Sofia growls in the young woman's face. "Until you tell us everything, because I know damn well you're lying. And then the three of us are going to go upstairs to your apartment and search _every _nook and cranny for _any _evidence."

Catherine steps from her watch post to the two women and tries to smooth things over.

"Look," she says in a motherly tone. "I understand that you're scared . . . "

"No, you don't. I'm beyond scared – I'm terrified. He showed me a tape of what he did to the women he hunts. I don't want that for my family!"

"Even if means we catch him?" Catherine asks.

"You two? A psycho cripple girl and pregnant lady, catch him? Not in this lifetime."

A screeching sound indicating a vehicle taking a corner roughly, interrupts Sofia before she can pull her cuffs out and arrest Cara for obstruction of justice. The sound of a rapidly fired gun forces the women to the ground in a futile attempt to keep from getting shot. They are sitting ducks despite Sofia and Catherine's best efforts to shield her unborn baby.

Not soon enough the gunfire stops and Sofia gets up just in time to see the back end of the Taurus make its way down the street. The same Taurus that has been dogging their investigation.

"Catherine . . . "

"Go! I'll be fine," Catherine orders as she grips the banister and pulls herself to her feet. High on adrenaline neither woman is thinking clearly.

Sofia practically leaps down the porch stairs. She frees her arm from the sling and hurriedly climbs into her vehicle. Seconds later, with lights flashing and siren blaring, the detective follows after the escaping vehicle.

Catherine stares after Sofia, watching as she disappears down the street.

Kneeling over Cara's still form Catherine doesn't need to be a M.E. to know that the young woman is dead. Killed by a single gunshot wound to the head.

Bells go off in her head though, when she sees the position of the body. She's been at this job long enough to know momentum from a shot to the forehead should force her to fall on her back. Cara is lying on her front.

Catherine lifts the head gently to examine the wound. Not enough to ruin the scene but just enough to either confirm or disprove her suspicion. Gasping in surprise she nearly drops the head.

When a bullet enters the body, the exit wound is larger then the entrance wound. Assuming that she was shot by the driver, Cara's forehead should have a smaller hole than the back of her head, which should be missing a large chunk. It's not though, her wounds are opposite and there's only one way for that to happen. The killing shot came from within the house.

"Shit," she muttered, angry at herself for falling for a stupid trap.

She tries to get up as quickly as possible. The cold metal of a gun muzzle in the back of her head stops her short though. She can feel it even through her hair.

Leaning close Tyler whispers roughly in her ear, causing Catherine to involuntarily shiver.

"I've changed my mind. I have enough souvenirs. It's time for the main event."


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8.**

Unbeknown to Sofia that Catherine's life is in danger back at Cara's house, the detective continues her single-minded pursuit. The shooter, knows exactly what he's doing. He's giving Sofia just enough visual confirmation to keep her chasing, but not enough to either catch him, or allow a clean shot. At least not until he's ready to be caught. Each move that he makes has been meticulously planned, from which streets he's to dive down, right down to where he is to entice Sofia into chasing him on foot. He's purposely baiting her, leading her on a wild goose chase, and Sofia is so caught up in the moment doesn't even know it.

Seconds quickly turn to minutes, which in turn pile higher and higher along with the miles, and her frustration.

She finally catches up with him when he either, mistakenly, or more likely, deliberately runs down a dead end alley. The shooter stands with arms crossed over his chest and a defiant smirk on his face. Sofia studies the thin, white male, as she slowly walks toward him with her gun raised. _' He can't be more than 21,'_ she observes.

"You can put your weapon away detective. I'm unarmed." To demonstrate this, he unfolds his arms and wiggles his fingers mockingly, before returning them to their former position. "I left it in the truck – if you're wondering." He thinks he's safe, she's a cop after all and she's putting her weapon away. Expecting to simply be arrested and taken in for questioning, he is unprepared for the savage rage burning in Sofia's eyes. Otherwise, the young thug would be prepared for a blitzkrieg attack.

Running the remaining 20 feet at top speed, she rams him against the wall behind him. The sound of flesh and bone smashing against brick and mortar echoes loudly throughout the alley, causing him to grimace in pain. A stunned look flashes across his face before he regains his bearings, and his arrogance.

"You fell for the oldest trick in the book," he informs her. "Here you are roughing me up, all the while your friend is open, vulnerable, ripe for Tyler's picking. By now, they're half way to his new hunting grounds."

Sofia eyes widen in disbelieving horror for a brief second. Her face is mere centimeters from his, and if looks could kill, he would be nothing more than a smoldering pile of ashes. Her mouth twists in a combination of anger and pain, as her sling hangs forgotten around her neck, allowing her the use of both hands in pinning him to the wall. Sharp pain emanating from her wound causes her to momentarily see stars. She refuses though, to loosen her grip, or to allow him to see even an iota of weakness in her.

"Listen to me, you little prick – if anything happens to Catherine, and I mean _anything _– I will make sure that you are tried as a co-conspirator, and I will _personally _stick the needle in your arm."

"You're not scaring me Sofia. As a matter of fact, I don't think you're in _any _position to dictate _any, _kind of threat to me. Because if something were to happen to me, you'd never find her." Leaning against the wall he pries the detective's arms off his shirt roughly, but doesn't let the injured, left one go. "I, on the other hand, am under no restraints. So long as you are able to join the hunt, Tyler doesn't care if I rough you up – just a little." Sofia doesn't have time to react as the thug twists her arm in an unnatural way, causing her to drop to her knees. The pain is so intense she swears she can feel stitches break, but she refuses to give any vocal indication of her pain. "You know, it's a shame that your friend is knocked up," he says in a casual conversational tone. "She is a total MILF. You know what I'm sayin'. I mean the things I would do to her . . . I'm just getting hard thinkin' about it!"

A sardonic smile creeps across Sofia's face and an evil glint sparkles in her eyes. "That must be awfully painful, why don't you let me take care of it?" Quick as lightning, she strikes, grabbing his balls tightly and twisting them as hard as she can. A loud howling, like a bear in a trap erupts from his mouth. Unable to keep his grip, he lets go and does his best to pry the blonde's hand away by using both of his. "You're going to have to tell me sooner or later where my friend is. After all you can't have a proper hunt if your prey is nowhere to be found. And make no mistake, he wants me in one piece and ready to go, so why don't you save yourself some pain and tell me what I want to know?"

"I . . . I . . . ca . . . n't."

Giving a twist, she asks, "Why?"

"Because . . . instructions."

"What instructions?" Giving one last twist, she finally lets go, stands up and straightens her blouse. Pulling out her cuffs, she stares at him writhing on the ground, waiting for him to answer. When none is forthcoming, she cuffs him as she reads him his rights. If he won't answer her questions here, then there's always the precinct. It'll be interesting to see how well his tough guy act holds up after he's been processed, cavity searched, and interrogated like a common criminal.

Tyler walks with a calm, confident gait behind Catherine, guiding her from his vehicle to a small room in his basement. The house was small, lemon-yellow, and entirely too feminine for the likes of him. The short path from the mud-room through the kitchen and finally down the narrow stairs doesn't afforded her much of a chance to inspect his home. But the frilly, floral curtains on the windows, and several cross-stitches of puppies all suggest that to Catherine that this was a victim's home.

This will be her home for the last three months of her life, or until she gives birth to his heir, and she knows this because he told her so. He takes great pleasure in recounting how he is going to hunt and kill her, right in front of the baby. He practically gloats in her face when he informs her that he is going to use her eyes to make a rattle.

Catherine listens in stoic silence, her face carefully crafted to not allow even a glimmer of fear to show. She refuses to let him see weakness in her, or give him the satisfaction of knowing that he is getting under her skin. Inside though, her stomach is twisting in knots, as her heart pounds loud enough that she's surprised that Tyler can't hear it. Mentally, she berates herself for falling for such a stupid trick. He would never have dared this, had the two of them stuck together – like they should have.

Tyler doesn't bother cuffing her hands or blindfolding her eyes to prevent escape, or hinder her ability to identify where she is being held. He neither wants to, nor needs to. He wants Sofia to find him – eventually. He just regrets not being able to see the detective's face when his little lapdog tells her the location of Catherine. He's certain the look on her face would be priceless, once she realizes the significance of the location.

He gives Catherine a quick, rough push inside, causing her to stumble slightly, which allows him the spilt second he needs to slam the heavy magnetic door. The click of a tumbler lock is the last sound she clearly hears before complete silence takes over. Darkness, as black as pitch makes it impossible for her to visually inspect her surroundings.

Catherine would never consider herself prone to the childish fear of the dark, or the even more childish belief that monsters lurk in the shadows. Standing there though, alone in that windowless, ventless room, it's difficult not to be unnerved by icy fingers of dread running up and down her spine. Tyler's words dance unbidden in her head with a new menace, aided by the darkness. The aged scent of sweat and fear of God knows how many women, clings to the air like a not so subtle perfume. How many have spent their last days in this room, fearing the inevitable, knowing that their days are numbered, and praying for a miracle that never comes?

Feeling around her prison, she uses her hands as her eyes to methodically make her way around the small room, which is covered in a thick hard padding. The only amenities are a small toilet and a roll of unused toilet paper, both of which reside in the let corner of her prison. _' I have to get out of here,' _Catherine thinks. With no ventilation, the room will turn into sauna in a few short hours and no sink, means no drinkable water. She's certain that Tyler gets a great deal of sick pleasure in knowing that his captives will invariably be forced to drink from the latrine, like some – _dog_. How long before she too abandons her dignity? How long did it take Sofia?

Catherine shakes her head, physically willing herself not to give in to doubt or despair. She will not be here long enough to worry about excessive heat and lack of water. She just needs to keep her wits about her and come up with a plan.

Putting the lid on the toilet down, she carefully climbs on top. A seed of an idea for escape is slowly forming, but it's dependent on what she finds on the ceiling. It takes her less than five seconds to find what she needs. A rough, circular patch, one foot in diameter, signifying the possibility of a speaker. She can't tell by touch alone whether it's a one or two way, but it does make sense that he would have some means of keeping tabs on his prisoner. After all, what good is it to torture his prisoners with sensory deprivation and dehydration, if he can't enjoy their cries.

' _If this he how he respects women, I'd hate to see how treated them if he hated them,'_ Catherine thinks.

Letting herself back down carefully, a grim smile touches the corners of her mouth. Tyler thought her pregnancy a hindrance. He's going to learn differently. Taking a seat, she manages to wrest her ankle gun from its holster. The cocky bastard didn't think it necessary to pat her down for concealed weapons. Hefting the weapon, she allows herself time to get use to the foreign weight and size. She can't put her plan into motion right away, it's too soon and he'd most likely would be expecting something. Better to wait a bit, let him think that she is behaving herself for the sake of the baby. Until the time is right, it is better to rest as best she can, considering the circumstances. Conservation of energy is vital if she wants to be of any help to either Sofia or herself.

Samuel Lopez, sits across from the detective in interrogation room one. His cocky smile is gone, replaced by a sour grimace. Various orifices are still quite sore after being manhandled, which has put the young man into a quiet, foul mood. Silence rules the room, making the ticking of the clock seem even louder and more ominous than it is.

A stalemate that started the second the cuffs went on is still in effect, even after two hours. Samuel refuses to speak; he just stares straight ahead, determined not to give anything away.

' _This boy is too calm ' _Sofia thinks._' If someone were threatening to kill someone in my family, I'd be scared, anxious – this kid is ice.' _There is something puzzling about his demeanor, even more puzzling is the fact that Tyler is using a male to do his dirty work. When she was chasing him in Boulder City, Tyler's MO was to threaten women into doing his bidding. Everything he needed from shelter, to food, to money were all gained through a gun to the head. So, what's different about Lopez?

"Did Tyler threaten to kill someone in your family? Your girlfriend?" Sofia asks in a renewed attempt to get trough to him. Her tone is neutral, professional – her posture is ramrod straight. Internally though, free-floating anxiety threatens to take over. Gil's still in a coma, but at least he's being well-taken care of. Catherine and her unborn baby on the other hand, are in a world of danger. She doesn't trust Tyler to take care of her properly. Her pregnancy is already too high risk due to her age, if she were to go into premature labor while Tyler's prisoner . . . she doesn't even want to think of the consequences.

Samuel nods his head.

"Then why are you helping him? You do know what he's capable of doing?"

He shakes his head. "As a matter of fact, I'm counting on it."

Confusion flashes briefly across Sofia mind, before the brilliant light of realization blazes through. "You made a deal with him, didn't you?"

He doesn't answer verbally, he doesn't have to. The return of his arrogant grin is all the confirmation she needs. Leaning back, she scrutinizes the young man before her for several seconds, which is interrupted by a loud, urgent banging at the door. Getting up, she opens the door and receives her visitor, who hands her a manila folder. Samuel cranes his neck to try and see who it is at the door and find out what's so important that it couldn't wait. All he could make out was soil sample, hiking trail and a request for a cross-check. When she returns to him, she carries with her a small bindle. That's not what's bothering him, it's her eyes. What the person said, it must have been good news, she no longer looks as if she's on pins and needles. She's seems – calmer. Casually walking over to him, she yanks out several strands of hair, before retaking her seat. Ignoring his glares and indignant protests, she carefully places the hairs in the bindle and seals it tight. Once done, she returns her attention to Samuel. "Your probably wondering what that was about, weren't you? You see you should have made a deal, you should have come clean when you had the chance. We could have worked something out – but you had to be stubborn, and now . . . I don't need you."

"What are you talking about?" he asks in a panicky tone.

"In a few minutes, I will have an address to where Tyler is keeping my friend. Because it dawned on me, why would Tyler come anywhere near a pasty faced little turd like you? Never mind make a deal with you?"

"Hey!"

"The only thing that would make sense, is if you had something he wanted, like a home that was near his hunting ground, which I now know the location of. It's just a matter of time before someone knocks on that door and hands me another manila folder."

Speechless, Samuel leans back in his seat and waits. True to her word a knock comes and Sofia exchanges the folder for the bindle. The hair inside will be used to compare to the corpses found at the liquor store parking lot. Casting one last look to young man, she hurriedly makes her way to her Charger, she's already wasted enough time with games. She can't afford to waste another minute. So caught up in her urgency she doesn't realize Brass is following her, until she hears his gruff voice bark out her name.

Pausing at the driver side door, she fights the temptation to ignore her mentor and leave. "I have to go Jim, Catherine is in great danger."

"I know. But you're not going into this alone, I promised your mother I'd have your back no matter what."

"I'm not a kid, and I'm not going to let you walk into trap."

"Who says I'm going to walk into a trap?"

"What do have in mind?" she asks slowly

A half smile quirks the corner of his mouth, softening minutely the hard, deep lines on his face. Leaning in, he discloses his plan.


	10. Chapter 9

Scene change

' thought '

_emphasis_

CHAPTER 9.

The midmorning sun slowly burns away the last of the desert night chill as it crawls across the cerulean sky-scape, which is only occasionally broken by a stray, fluffy cloud. Sofia stares in a bit of wonder; there is nothing special about this plot of land, nothing to suggest that 40 women had lost their lives here. There's nothing but the scars she carries inside to remind her that she came within a hair's width of becoming victim #41 of one of the most notorious criminals in history. There is no plaque or stone to commemorate his capture and the land itself is quite ordinary. The trees spread forth with their branches to the sky in a welcoming hug. The grass blankets the ground, crunching under her boots as she walks, surveying the members of her team as they put the finishing touches their side of the plan. Families with their children and dog still come here, taking pictures and hoping to see an animal or two.

No, there is not one physical thing here to remind Sofia of what occurred here – and yet she can't shake the feeling that someone is walking on her grave. Her nerves are on edge making her jump several times at some loud, sudden noise. She keeps flashing back to the last time she was on Boulder City's River Mountain hiking trail. She remembers the darkness and the full moon. She remembers being so hungry and thirsty that she could barely walk never-mind run. She remembers the cold and the pain – so much pain that it even hurts to even think about it. She remembers all of this and wonders, if she will ever be able to forget – will the nightmares ever end?

Sofia runs a hand over her face, trying in vain to rub the exhaustion and bad memories out of existence as she berates herself. There is no time for this, the officers here are looking to her for leadership and Catherine is counting on her to find her. The detective made a promise that nothing would happen to the strawberry blonde or her baby, and she _will _keep that promise come hell or high water.

All civilians within a 200-foot radius of where she is standing are being ordered off, anyone who resists or gives lip are being escorted bodily. It wasn't necessary to clear that much area, at least not if everything goes as planned, but both detectives felt, better safe than sorry. Police officers, 20 total, traipse about the wooded area, calling out to each as they carry out their instructions. A sense of controlled chaos surrounds Sofia, giving her the impression of standing in the eye of a hurricane. Minutes pass with the speed and consistency of maple syrup during December. Beads of sweat gathers at the crown of her head and the nape of her neck. Even with her hair pulled back into a tight, painful looking ponytail, there was no relief from the climbing temperature or her anxiety. ' _What if this doesn't work?_' she thinks. It's a thought that plagues her to point of distraction, making her want to scream at that doubting voice in the back of her mind to shut the hell up. Physically trying to shake the doubt from her mind, Sofia joins the rest of her team in setting up their end, which is looking more and more like D-day.

The silence in the truck is almost as oppressive as the growing heat outside. Detective Brass and his 'partner' Nick Stokes stare stonily at the one-story, lemon-yellow house 100 feet away. Despite not being a cop in any official capacity, the young CSI insisted, demanded and then begged to be allowed to accompany Jim on his stakeout. The captain finally complied, whatever threat the men of the department were under, must surely be over by now. A second unmarked car is parked on the other side of the house and just a short distance away is an ambulance with EMTs at the ready.

"Why can't we just bust in there and get Cath? She's been in there for hours, she could be hurt." There's anxiety and fear in Nick's voice that he doesn't bother hiding. Grissom and Warrick are still in comas and now Catherine is trapped _somewhere _in Tyler's home going through God-knows-what while they're sitting in an air-conditioned car twiddling their fingers.

Brass sighs with his own impatience and glances at his watch. He understands the younger man's sentiments. A part of him would like nothing more than to bust through the door like Clint Eastwood with guns a blazin', but they can't. The plan is dependent on everyone following their part to the letter. "Because we don't know where in the house she is," he finally answers, with a low, even tone that does well to hide his own fear. After all, one of them has to keep their cool. "Sofia said that he wanted her alive, at least until the baby is born. So we don't know if he's keeping her in the basement, like the others or somewhere else. She could for all we know be sitting on the couch right next to him, do you want to be the one who tells Rick that both his wife and baby were killed in the crossfire?"

Nick slams his fist against the armrest but doesn't offer any disagreement to Brass. Losing Catherine and the baby would destroy his best friend and tear a hole in the team that would never heal. So, as much as it pains him to admit it, Jim is right. He drops his argument and instead leans back in his seat, trying to force himself to relax. He has his ears alert and trained on the police radio that resides between the two of them. Every time a voice is heard, he jumps from his seat in attention, only to be disappointed that it's not Sofia giving her signal.

Jim continues staring through the window, as he too keeps an ear on the radio. A part of him envied Sofia, at least she has something to occupy her body and mind and is not sitting around waiting. The two of them do not have that luxury. Their minds are free to wonder down dark paths full of worst case scenarios. Though he doesn't show it, the detective is worried for both women. Catherine's high risk pregnancy coupled with the massive amount of stress she's under can't be doing her or the baby a damn bit of good. Then there is Sofia, she put on a brave front for him at the station, but she's young and inexperienced, so the cracks in her mask were visible. He says a silent prayer to the God and saints of his childhood to keep both of them safe and to bring Gil and Warrick back from their coma.

"Catherine's going to be okay, right?" Nick asks, sounding way younger than his 30 plus years.

"She's strong, Nick. Hell, she's probably sitting on the couch, watching TV and wondering what the hell took us so long," Brass responds with a forced laugh. He wants to believe this as does Nick, who adds his own forced laugh. Deep down though, in the pit of his stomach, the young Texan has a _very _bad feeling.

Standing straight and tall, Sofia gives the clearing one last sweep. Just a few minutes ago this area was a buzz with activity, now all is still. Not even the wind or the birds in their nests seem willing to intrude on this moment. Everyone is in place at both ends and it now up to her to put the plan in motion. Clearing her throat for what feels like the hundredth time, she raises her walkie-talkie and presses the button that will send her voice through every police scanner in range.

"Evan Tyler, this is Detective Sofia Curtis from the Las Vegas police department. I know you want revenge. I know you want me. I know you want to put a bullet through my skull and watch the light fades as I die. My eyes would look quite nice on your mantle, wouldn't they? Or would you keep them by your side? I think you would, maybe make a nice key-chain out of them. Well, I'm waiting for you, all alone in our special place. You remember that don't you? This is were you fell for one of the oldest tricks in the book. I was so hoping for a challenge when I caught you the first time. But I'm giving you a second chance – don't disappoint me – again." She releases the button and takes several deep breaths, trying in a futile attempt to calm the butterflies in her stomach. Just standing there is enough to make the bile rise in her throat and she wishes childishly, that Gil were there to tell her everything is going to be all right.

It will take a few minutes for Tyler to get ready and a few more minutes to drive to the hiking trail, barring any traffic, and then several more minutes to walk to the clearing. If he's not here in 30 minutes, she'll repeat her message, and she'll keep on repeating it until he finally shows up – no matter how long it takes.

It didn't take him 30 minutes, it didn't even take him five minutes to come flying out of the house in full hunting attire, complete with two side arms, and jump into his truck. Smoke rises and a loud screech from his tires can be heard by Brass and Nick, barely giving then time to duck low in the Charger before Tyler zooms by. Ten seconds, then 20 seconds slowly tick by before either man dare raise their heads. With the truck's engine receding out of hearing range and the coast clear, both men scramble from the Charger and sprint to the house.

With the door unlocked and partially open, both men are able to slip in with ease. Pausing in the living room, Brass is just about to give the order for them to split when he hears a low moan coming over an intercom speaker. Gasps of pain soon follow as the two men stare at each other in shock, they both recognize the sound of their colleague. It's a race to see which man will get to intercom first, Nick being closer, and younger he gets there a split second before Jim and presses the speak button.

"Catherine, is that you?"

"Nicky?...Nicky, is that you?" Catherine asks in a voice tinged with exhaustion.

"Yeah Cath. Jim's here too."

"Where's Tyler? Are you two okay? Where's Sofia? Why isn't she there? Is she okay?" she asks in panic, adrenaline giving her a second wind.

"We're fine Catherine," Brass chimes in. "Sofia and Tyler . . . they're not here."

"What?!"

"Calm down Cath," Brass says. "She's fine. We've set a trap for Tyler along the hiking trail near here. She has 20 of my best men backing her up."

"Okay." But there is little relief in her voice.

"Where are you Catherine?" Nick asks. "Are _you _okay?"

"I'm fine, just tired and thirsty. The baby's fine too, thank God. I was trying to lure Tyler down by pretending to go into labor, so I could use the gun Sofia gave me. Looks like your plan trumped mine," she says with a dry laugh. Both men sigh in relief that their friend is okay. "I'm in the basement, go to the kitchen, past the table is a door leading downstairs. There's a small room, that's where I am."

Nick takes the lead, and the two men run down the stairs before she even finishes her sentence. Less then a minute passes before Catherine practically falls into Jim's embrace. Her hair is plastered to her head, and her face is sweaty and pale.

"Nick, go upstairs, get a glass of water and wet face cloths, _NOW!_"

"I'm fine,"she says. Her voice is slightly weak.

"No, you're not, come on, let's get you upstairs."

Brass half carries Catherine back upstairs and sits her on the sofa. Nick brings over a glass of water and a wash cloth. "Is she okay?" he asks Jim.

"We got here just in time. She's starting to show signs of heat exhaustion."

"Guys, I'm right here."

"Sorry," the two men chorus.

The two men take a seat on opposite sides of their friend and Brass takes his cell phone out to call the ambulance. "They'll be here in a few seconds. And I don't want any lip from you. You need to get checked out."

"Fine. Besides, I want to be with Warrick when he wakes up. But as soon as I go, I expect the both of you to go join Sofia. "

"Deal." Brass answers.

"You seem awfully worried about Sofia." Nick says, surprised to hear the worry in her voice.

"You know, just because we're both women doesn't mean we can't get along."

" I thought you didn't like her."

"We made peace."

Before she can elaborate, the sirens of the ambulance screech through the air and two EMTs rush in.

The grass crunches under Tyler's heavy, black boots. Only one of his guns is out and raised in defense. The air is warm and still, as the space between the two combatants quickly shrinks. He can see her, standing alone in the woods – his Sofia, his goddess, his prey! _She is magnificent!' _he thinks in excitement. If it were possible for a man like him to fall in love she would be the one. He smiles at her and to his delight, she smiles back. He can smell her confidence even from here.Her gun is upholstered and at her side, ready to be raised at a moments notice. Her posture is ramrod straight, but she is alert and focused on him and him alone.

At 15 feet he stops and stares.

"Hello Tyler." Her voice is smooth as ice as she aims her gun at a spot between his eyes. "I suggest you drop your weapon."

"Do you?"

"I do."

Tyler laughs for a moment, before fixing Sofia with a look of determination. "It's just the two of us, all alone. There's a 50/50 chance that one of us will not be walking of this trail alive. I personally, like those odds."

"Really? Fifty/fifty? I don't think so."

On cue 20 police officers seem to appear out of nowhere. Some popped out from behind trees, while the rest look as if they had grown from the earth itself. Camouflage tarps covered in leaves and small branches are thrown unleashing the traps full affect. All of them are armed and aiming their weapon at Tyler, who stands dumbfounded in the center. His mouth hangs open as his mind tries to process what is happening. His guns are quickly confiscated, and his arms are pulled back in order to be handcuffed.

"_You bitch! You fucking bitch!"_ he roared in angerHe struggled to get at her, but it was no use, 4 officers were holding him back and not allowing him any closer to Sofia."You tricked me. I thought you were different, but you're like every other woman."

Sofia smiles. "I _am _like no woman you have ever met. That's why you came here – in broad day light – with nothing but a couple of measly side arms to protect you. You wanted me. You wanted to face me head on, because I am like no other prey you have ever hunted. Face it Tyler. I beat you – twice."

She reads him his Miranda rights and watches as he is carted off to the police station. Promising to meet her fellow police officers for drinks after shift, they follow behind, leaving Sofia alone. She needs a few moments to calm her nerves and allow her heart to go back to its resting rate. Leaning against a tree, she puts her gun away and takes out her walkie-talkie.

"Jim? We got him. He's in custody and on route to the station." She waits almost a full minute before trying again. "Jim? Are you there?"

"Sorry Sofia, but we got a situation over here." To Sofia's surprise Nick's voice is heard and there is panic and fear in it. In the background she can hear sirens screeching.

"It's Catherine . . . "

' _Oh God no!'_

". . . she's in a bad way. The baby . . . we thought it was just heat exhaustion. But as soon as she stepped foot into the ambulance . . . her stomach . . . cramps . . . blood . . . they're rushing her to the hospital . . . I . . . how can something so small have so much blood?" The young Texan is practically in tears and can barely talk. Which is just as well, since Sofia is no longer listening. The trunk is cool under palms and sun is warm on her back, but she can't feel anything. She wishes she shot that bastard right between the eyes when she had the chance. Putting her walkie-talkie away she pulls her keys out, and runs to her vehicle. Catherine is going to need all the support she can get from her family and friends and the young blonde is determined to stand by her newly found friend.

**A/N: Epilogue's next!**


	11. Epilogue

A/N: I'd like to thank Tazzer and Sydne once again for all their help, this story would never had gotten done without them. I'd also like to thank everyone who read my story, and especially those who took an extra minute to write a review. I wasn't expecting a lot of feedback so every little encouragement was appreciated.

EPILOGUE.

Sofia spends the following months in and out of the hospital. As the last one standing of the quartet, she feels it's her responsibility to take on the lion's share of watching over her fallen family. She is the first person to arrive at the beginning of visiting hours and usually the last one to leave when they end. In between, Sofia splits her time between the three adults and premie baby. She reads, talks and just sits by their side, hoping that her mere presence is enough to let them know they are not alone. When Catherine is able, the detective is the one to push her wheelchair so the older woman can visit her newborn daughter.

It is six months later, and the wounds, both physical and psychological have healed. All that is left are the scars, which provide constant, vivid reminders of what the four of them almost lost. They are reminders of how fragile life is, how quickly things change and how foolish fear is. But they are also reminders of how, through friendship and family any obstacle can be overcome.

Gil stands in the entryway of the living room, admiring Sofia's beauty as she stares out the bay windows of her – _their _first-floor condo. During his convalescence, Sofia brought him to her home, and slowly over the days that stretched into weeks, his belongings made their way to her, now their bedroom closet. By the time he was well enough to go home, he didn't want to leave and neither did she. For the millionth time since she said yes to his dinner invitation, he thinks how damn lucky he is to have found a woman, who is neither judgmental nor boring. "You do know that they're not going to get here any quicker with you starring out the window? Don't you?" A bemused half-smile is painted across his face. "They've only been gone a week."

Sofia turns to face him, a bemused smile of her own lighting her face. "Oh, don't you _dare _give me that line. Just because you're better at hiding it, doesn't mean you're just as excited as I am to see them – especially Gillian and Lindsey." Gil pads over to his angel and envelopes her in his arms. Kissing her deeply he's thankful that he has a second chance and he's determined to not waste a second of it. "You know you love spoiling your nieces rotten, you big softie." She continues when she pulls away. She is no longer surprised at these spontaneous shows of affection, she understands perfectly, his need for human contact.

"Just don't tell anyone, you'll ruin my rep," Gil says in a low conspirator voice.

Sofia laughs. "Okay, big tough guy. Though I think if anyone saw you in my floral apron, you wouldn't have to worry about anything I have to say."

"What? You don't like it?"

"Oh, I like it just fine. But I like what's inside even better." Sofia gives him her best devil-may-care smile, before pulling into another slow deep kiss. A kiss which is broken by a loud honking.

"Stop giving the neighbors a show and help us out!" Catherine calls from the passenger side window.

"Yeah, we've been watching you make out for the past 10 minutes. I'm starting to get nauseous," Warrick adds from the driver seat.

"Oh shut up, the both of you. I'll be out right out there," Sofia yells out in a laughing voice.

The two lovers part, but not before Gil quickly whispers in Sofia's ear. "You do know my dear, we're going to have to get back at them, for that?"

"Oh hell yeah, we're getting them back bugman, now you go in the kitchen and finish dinner, I'll go help them."

"You just want to hold the baby before me."

"Damn straight," the blonde calls over shoulder.

Quickly making her way outside to the car, she is warmly greeted by Warrick, Catherine and Lindsey. "So, how was the honeymoon? Did you manage to get some time alone?"

"Why did you think we took my mom along?" Catherine replies with an embarrassed chuckle. "The desk-clerk nearly choked on his tongue when he saw the five of us ask for the honeymoon suite. But it was cool, mom took them on a few day trips, so it worked out."

"Where is Lily?"

Catherine smile falters before she answers tersely. "Sam's place."

While the women talk, Warrick grabs Gillian's baby bag. He then hands it over to his wife, before leaning in and kissing Catherine fully on the lips, only pulling back when he senses her sour mood evaporate. "Maui was beautiful." Warrick says, trying to pull the conversation away from unpleasant topics. Turning his attention back to the car he proceeds to carefully lift his 6-month baby girl out of her car-seat and hand her off to a grateful Sofia, who proceeds to cradle and coo her. No one would ever be able to tell that Gillian spent nearly the first three months of her life under the blue lights of NICU. She is healthy and strong and bares no internal or external reminders of her premie status. Her skin and eye colors are both taken from her father with thick black curls crowning her head. The rest is her mother's, right down to her smile that Warrick knows he is never going to be able say no to. "We had a great time, and we bought everyone gifts."

"Speaking of which . . . " Catherine says while fixing Sofia with a pointed look. "Where is the rest of the team?"

"Uh, maybe we should go inside . . . "

"_Sofia_."

"They'll be here – in half an hour." In an uncharacteristic turn, Sofia cheeks turned a slightly pink.

"Ha-ha, you guys owe me 20 bucks _each_," Lindsey crows in triumph. Stretching her hand out she receives her winnings happily from the two disgruntled adults.

"What was that about?" Sofia asks as she leads them to the house.

"We had a bet going," Catherine explains. "I said you'd lie and tell the rest of the team to come an hour after us, Lindsey said half an hour and Warrick said you would even bother inviting them."

"Warrick! All three of you are terrible. Besides Gil wouldn't let me."

"So you did think of not inviting them. Didn't you?" Warrick asks.

"I – Gil Sweetheart, could you come out here – please?"

Wiping his hand on his apron, Gil walks into the hallway to see Catherine, Warrick and Lindsey enjoying a laugh at Sofia's expense. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, just a little good nature ribbing," Catherine answers as she pulls him into a hug. "By the way, I like your apron. Rick's got one just like it at home."

"Hey, at least I can cook more than two dishes," Warrick defends.

"Two whole dishes? Sofia can cook Three – sort of." Gil says.

"Excuse me, but Catherine and I are modern-woman, we don't need to know how cook."

"Right, we have you guys to do all the cooking." Catherine adds.

"Whatever you two say. Now, why don't we adjourn to the livingroom and have some wine while we wait for the others," Gil suggests.

The rest of the team arrives shortly after. To anyone passing by, hearing the laughter and talking from inside, they would certainly draw the conclusion that this is a family filled with much happiness and love. And they would be right.

_**THE END!**_


End file.
